So last night I’m sitting at home and I’m not doing good. I’m feeling pretty down. I can’t stop thinking about my mom.

I need a dip. So I hop in the Ranger and drive around Hayward looking for a fresh can of Copenhagen.

7/11 on Mission? Month old. Liquor store across the street? Same. What about Harder? So I drive over to 7/11 on Harder, and it’s six weeks old. Liquor store across the street is out. Shit.

What about Bonfare? I pull into the parking lot and I see a short, thin, old man in the store. Holy shit, is that Tito? It is!

If you grew up in the Highlands or went to Hayward High you have to know Tito. This guy ran Bronco Billys for 15 years, from the time it opened in June 1990 up until about two years ago. Me and both of my sisters worked at Broncos at one time or another for Tito. He was very good to me and my friends.

“Tito! It’s me, Tom Bissell!”

“I know who you are, meat-head.”

Good ol’ Tito.

We chat for awhile, and I find out that he’s been working on his teaching credential at Cal State HAYWARD (not fucking East Bay). He starts student teaching soon. How funny would it be if he got my sister Deborah’s classroom?

I say my goodbyes and buy my Cope. As I getting ready to drive away this large older woman comes walking through the parking lot. She makes eye contact with me and I smile. She waves at me and says something, so I roll down the window.

In a very thick accent she tells me that her car broke down and asks for a ride up the hill. I wonder where she’s from, so on the ride up the hill I ask. Africa. Kenya, to be exact.

“I could tell you were a very nice man just from looking at you, so I decided to ask for a ride.”

We chatted for awhile in her driveway about her home in Africa, and her new life in California. She thanked me for the ride and invited me inside for a drink, but I politely declined and made my way home.

Good kharma, please. I need to catch a break.