Things I Think About. Well, things I mostly thought about when I was young. Mom would leave me sitting in the car while she ran into the local drug store or post office. I would sit and look at all of the cars and trucks around us intently, memorizing the license plates and descriptions. There was a bank in the same plaza and I was convinced that I would witness a bank robbery in progress. In the manner of Walter Mitty or James at 15 (remember that show?), I would fade off into the fantasy about how the chubby sheriff would look to me to help solve the puzzle of who would be bold enough to rob the bank in a town of 1,000 people. The dream would continue on to me being interview by my school newspaper, the town historian (this is history right? Just as important as the spot where the creamery used to be). Then the “big town” newspaper would catch on, snap some photos of me outside the bank. I’d get on TV, maybe the radio. The cool guy in school would notice. And next thing you know there is a parade in my honor. All this because I memorized all of the vehicles around me while I sat idly in the car. Now, when I go to a store, I’m lucky if don’t walk past my own car.