Back in the Saddle
It was two-thirty in the afternoon when John Birch’s bleary eyes watched the brown Cadillac pull into his driveway and park where his wife Kathy use to park her car. Hers was no longer there, nor would it ever be again. What was left of it was sitting in old man Sprietzer’s wrecking yard where it had been for the last seven and a half months. Kathy had been broadsided by a semi on her way home from work one evening killing her instantly. Her parents had flown in from upper Manhattan for the closed casket funeral but his own mother wasn’t able to make it due to a bad case of the flu. She did tell him she’d try and make it out soon but he told her not to worry about it. Even …