IN THE small town where I grew up, there lived a dour matron whose out-spoken, irascible manner was known to all and feared by most.
A farmer who had just run over one of her prize roosters timidly approached the woman and was greeted by a gruff, "Well, what do you want?"
The farmer apologetically explained his mission and waited for an explosion. Instead, she regarded him coldly and asked, "What kind of car are you driving?"
"I drive an old Model T Ford, ma'am," the farmer replied proudly.
After another long stare, the woman said, "Just forget it. If he couldn't out run that thing, he couldn't catch my hens anyway."
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