September 20, 2025: The Loyal Friend

Growing up in the South, Steve was the most southern guy I knew.

I met him when I was sixteen, working my first job at Mr. C’s Car Wash. On slow days he’d fill the time with dirty jokes. And while his humor could be rough around the edges, his heart was pure gold.

Steve had a generosity of spirit to go along with his country accent. His drawl made every story sound better, and the cowboy boots and big truck sealed his legend.

Even after I left that job, we regularly grabbed meals together. Steve once drove to see me when I moved to Virginia Beach, and while there, he dragged me to a saddlery store where they sold Western wear. It was like walking into a John Wayne film.

Years later, he stood beside me as a groomsman in my wedding. His gift to me? A book full of erotic photographs, telling me with a wink that it would prepare me for marriage. Classic Steve.

Sixteen years ago, he suddenly passed away from a heart attack. The call hit hard, and my world dimmed.

Every time I pass that saddlery store, I think of Steve. And for a moment, I’m riding shotgun in his truck once again.