Old Darryl

There was an old semi-retarded man who lived somewhere near Woodward in an old shack. His name was, aptly, "Old Darryl." Old Darryl spent much of his spare time, which was all of his time, "feeshin'. Or talking about going to go "feeshin'." Old Darryl smelled like stale urine and didn't have many teeth. I don't know his last name, or if he ever actually went fishing.

Old Darryl usually wandered up and down Route 45. I can't remember him too clearly, but I do remember he usually had on a hat. One time we were coming through the Narrows and came across him wandering the road. Dad pulled the truck over and rolled down the window, asking if he needed a ride.

Old Darryl poked his grimy head in the window at me.

"YEWWW GOIN' FEESHIN' LEETLE GUUURL? GOIN' FEESHIN'!!!!"

I can't remember my reaction to this, but I do remember the vision of this smelly old man with no teeth. We might have had him ride in the back of the truck to his destination, or maybe he just preferred strolling to the "crick," but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that he did get a ride once.

Barb, out of the kindness of her heart, decided to give him a ride one day - I think he was going to the medical center. I believe, at the time, they drove a little Volkswagen Beetle with a plaid blanket (I remember the blanket, it was probably for their ancient dog Nellie). Old Darryl got in and looked a little uncomfortable.

"What's wrong, Darryl?" asked Barb.
"Uhhhh....I got....the diarrhea!!!" he responded.

I'm not sure what came of this condition, I never asked.