Does this man live in Independence?

Does this man live in Independence?

Lets go down the checklist:
• Shirt off? Check.
• White, dad New Balance shoes? Check.
• Smoking a cigar? Check.
• Beautiful long hair? Check.
• Chest tat? Check.
• Gold chain? Check.
• Hanging out outside a ghetto daycare? Check.

Yes, this man lives in Independence.

Hot Rods and Flatbeds.

Last week, I went to Steak and Shake to get some lunch. As I was sitting in my booth, I heard the faintest, most grizzly voice I've ever heard. It sounded as if its owner ate lit cigarettes all day while smoking cigarettes and then ate those cigarettes too. It was as if a bulldozer was outside dragging a car that was chained to a Harley that was getting hailed on by gravel.

I looked over, and the image did not disappoint.

 This guy was in "Burt Reynolds mode." A true flashback of Americana, he played the part incredibly. Slicked back hair, Rhett Butler 'stache, blurred-out name tat on his hand, and drinking a sweet tea.

I couldn't make out all of the words that he was saying, but I didn't need to know them all. I heard the best ones. Here's a list of the words I caught:

• Tars (tires), which he said like 4 times.
• '55. I'm assuming he was talking about a car.
• Whiskey. 'Nuff said.
• Kentucky. Yep.
• Shrimp. Hmm... interesting...
• Football field.
• Flatbed. This one's probably my favorite.

I loved seeing this guy. He's a dying breed.

The Walking Man Walks

Every day I see this man. Walking. Up and down the sidewalk. I've seen him walking at almost every point on my route to work at any given time of the day.

At first, I wondered... "Is this a man, or a woman?" The hair suggests a woman, but a rugged flannel shirt says "This is a manly-man shirt." 

And then, there's the shorts... Volleyball teams wouldn't be seen in such short shorts.

I guess if I had leg muscles like these, I'd probably wear less than shorts too. Nice shave job.

I've adopted the name "Chris" for him when talking in the workplace with co-workers who also pass by this man day by day. I call him Chris, because he's always Walken. (Christopher Walken). Yeah, it's lame, but I don't really know his name. 

Every day, same wardrobe. Short-shorts, hair pulled back high, trainers, a tank top and flannel over it. Oh, and water and sometimes a yoga mat or something. Then one day, he wore a KC Chiefs shirt. 

Yesterday, I went to the grocery store, and Chris was there. Like a child seeing Michael Jackson's moonwalk for the first time, I was in awe as I ran up to him. "Hey man... (hey) I always see you walking... (yeah) Um, where are you going?" With a very controlled stare, he said "I walk to the gym. Miles and miles. If you see me walking, I'm either walking to or from the gym. One to two times a day. (Woah...)" "So, like, what do you do there at the gym, like yoga or swim?" 

He took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly. With metered blinks he calmly said "I'm trying to get back into bodybuilding. It's what I do."

Woah. In my head all of the weirdest questions were circling. Like why does he walk? Why a flannel shirt on a 95 degree day? Do you have a job? But all I could think to say was "Cool. Keep it up, man."

He nodded politely and walked away. 

I really do think I've seen him somewhere before. Oh yeah! Here:

Walking man in the 80s?