I chose not to be offended. “Yeah, of course I would.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…you’re a bit of a curmudgeon.”
“Are you trying to say I’m old and cranky?”
“Oh, no. You’re perfect, just a little crusty and a bit of a metal-phobe.”
“It’s just not my thing. You don’t like country.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve never heard you play any. It’s always rock or metal or some such.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it. Keith Urban is one of my favorites. Plus, my Mom made me listen to country classics when I was a kid. Over and over. I got sick of hearing Patsy Cline. Drove me nuts, man. I retaliated by playing AC/DC at full volume for weeks on end. She finally relented and we figured out how to share each other’s interests.”
I laughed at that. “Wow. That’s awesome. Your Mom sounds like a really cool lad
