Once I arrive at the parking garage, there it is.
No idea how it found me, no idea what the driver will want from me. I press onward. As I try to slyly pass the truck, an elfish chortle comes from inside the truck.
"Did I do something wrong?" ...the well-seasoned woman driving "bubba" says to me.
I laugh.
"Umm, no, I just really liked the front of your truck so I took a picture of it."
She retorts, "We sell wood, people call us Bubba, I didn't know what was going on!"
"I'm a photographer, sorry, sometimes I freak people out like that. Now that I have you here can I take a better picture of your truck?"
"Yep, I suppose so, as long as I'm not in trouble."
I thank her, and get my picture.
