On the corner of our block is this shoe repair place. A third generation shoe repairman owns it and works there with his cat. He wears a denim apron and black frame glasses that look like they've been in and out of style about three times since he's owned them. They happen to be pretty hip in 2012, but he doesn't know or care. His cash register is one of those old ones that pop up little black tabs in a glass window to show you what you owe.
I've taken a bunch of worn out shoes to him. We became friends when we found out we have the same car: a crappy Toyota 2wd pickup. We're both pushing 250k miles and need paint jobs.
After lunch at Diego's and some beekeeping with my bros, he came over asking about camper shells that would fit on our trucks. I began to explain him the best way to search for them on ksl's online classifieds, when he interrupted me and said:
"I don't have the technology to do that."
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