Larry always went out around town on the weekends. Younger, more spritely people passed him, but Larry always pointed his wise head forward. The rhythmic routine movement kept his aged joints sweating with thick oil. He often enjoyed the humming noise of subdued mufflers, laughing students, and sirens alone. He did not feel the need for company. Larry’s old limbs would occasionally break down, and he would sit, breathing heavily, against the leaf covered curb. Each time, people came and inspected him, took him home, tidied him up, and he would continue his excursion with the fresh energy of a nap.