When I lived in Idaho, people were really chatty at odd times. Odd times for someone like me who largely grew up in the Northeast and who identifies strongly with the cultural norms of the place. I’d be pumping gas in Boise when someone would start a conversation with me. Huh? I’m pumping gas here? This is no place for talking.
Today, a most Boise thing happened to me while I was navigating the drive up ATM at my new bank. (I just switched. That’s another story.) A guy in the lane next to me started up a conversation about cars. “You know how a Volvo owner knows they’ve been in a serious accident?” he shouted.
I rolled down my window and played along. I drive a Volvo. “No.”
“They’ve been cut out of the car. Those things can take a direct hit. They’re awesome. If you want a car that can handle snow though, you need a Subaru. You remember that 21 inches we had in 2017? I tried to get stuck and couldn’t.”
I laughed at this and then noticed he was driving said Subaru, and it was covered with advertisements for CBD oil, which appeared to be his personal business. Well, these are my people, I thought.
“Nice chatting with you.”
I meant it this time.