"I saw the plates on your car!" he booms out. "That's why I call you Mr. Colorado."
"The other day I saw your lovely wife leave the apartment. I turned my head to say, 'Hello Mrs. Colorado' and she was already halfway down Lefferts and almost to Grand! Boy, that wife of yours can run!"
"You're telling me," I said. "Can you imagine how hard it was get her to go out on our first date?"
Tyrone watches the world go by from the seat of his red Ford Explorer. Sometimes the car is running, most of the time it isn't. He says hello to the neighbors and greets the strangers on the street and always is there to tell us about the changes in the neighborhood. Oh, and he also eats meals sitting in his car. He also spends sunny days washing his car. His car is his hobby and major pastime and since the Mayor retired from his position at the Post Office, his car is is home away from home yet still, strangely, right outside his home. One of the few times I didn't see Tyrone in, at, near or washing his car, he was standing by a small grill, searing a steak, wearing a white apron and cowboy hat and sipping a large glass of red wine. This is our kind of guy.
"Where are you from originally, Mr. Colorado?" he asked one day.
"Well, I was born in Rochester. My dad is German but my mom is Indian. That's why I'm so dark." I imagine my entire foot entering my mouth. I want to smack myself on the head.
Tyrone does a double-take at me and his eyes get kind of large and bug-ish. "You don't have to tell me, man... Black is beautiful!" Thankfully he lets my faux pas slide. Kitty is silently laughing and I think I see a tear go down her cheek. Man, I'm going to get MOCKED OUT when I get home.
On the other side of the street from our house (and the Mayor's car/house/central command), there is a blue free-standing house. In front of it is a small shelter that has been made of recovered wood and a piece of corrugated tin, attached at an angle to let the rain run off. It's rather run down and under it are a couple of benches and lawn chairs. From there, the competing neighborhood watch is on the lookout.
From early morning, when I leave for work, to late into the evening, there are people sitting out, just watching the world go by. They watched us as we moved in and they watch us as we come and go to our jobs. The cast of characters changes depending on the day but there are always at least two people sitting and just watching. At first I tried to say hello. The owner of the blue house introduced himself briefly. After that, not a sound. Every morning as I walk to the train, I say hello and they do reply, but not much beyond that. I'm reminded of Hank Hill and his friends, standing around, watching the world go by. Only they aren't white rednecks drinking beer. I do think that on the weekends I can catch a wiff of Alaz'e...
When we moved in to the apartment last August, Kitty found that she was doing much of the move because she was on her "summer vacation" and I was stuck in my day job. She would pack up boxes at our highrise flat and drive them over to the new apartment. They sat and watched as she parallel parked our car. They sat and watched as she went to unlock our apartment. They sat and watched as she took each box from the car to apartment. They never spoke. They just silently judged her.
Where as the Mayor is friendly and kind, I worry sometimes that the guys across the street are more like Jafar, ready to usurp the throne, enslave the princess and rule Lefferts with an iron fist.
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