Cast Off: What Men Can Learn from Knitting
an excerpt

Blair rolled up her window, still cursing. "Goddamn kids these days. I never would've done that! I didn't even have a car back in my day. We walked everywhere on the farm! Right, Sarah?" Sarah had been staring out the window at the flashing lights of the Diner.
"Hmm?" She turned around towards me as I coughed. "Who's he?"
"Remember, Sarah, he's the boy that's going to take care of you." "He's a child. I don't need anyone to take care of me."
"Alright, sweetie."
"I don't."
I could tell this job was going to be interesting, at least. Both of my grandparents had died before I could remember, so I don't have much experience working with the elderly. I figure they couldn't be too much different then people my age. I guess I will find out soon enough, at the speed that Blair was driving.
When we passed a speed limit sign reading thirty five miles per hour, I leaned up to glance over her shoulder. Fifty five. Jesus. I tightened up my seat belt a bit, and held on to the door handle. Some small silver car pulled in front of us going around forty five, and Blair laid on the horn, hard. "C'mon, lady!" She yelled with all the windows up. "You could at least go the speed limit!"
I decided to keep my mouth shut.