While I was running about four or five days ago, I passed a man who was giving a parking ticket to a car — God knows what he is called. I was very tired, and when he saw me he said, “Young friend, you have run enough. Now take rest.”
After writing out the ticket, he himself sat down at the foot of a tree. He was a very old man, a very nice soul. I asked him, “Do you get joy by giving tickets to cars?”
“No, never!” he replied. “But will you give me my bread and butter? Daily I have to give at least ten or twelve tickets in the morning. If I do not, then my boss will fire me. He will not give me my bread and butter.”
So we sat down and both rested for about five minutes — this is how I run — and then we went our own ways.
RB 69. 21 September 1979↩