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Abstract

d I were driving the 20 some miles from our office in New York City to the affluent New Jersey suburb of Saddle River.Toward the end of our journey, Harry informed me he had to take a wicked piss. His solution was to pull his Lincoln Town Car over on the shoulder of the the busy New Jersey Turnpike and pretend to be checking his tire. He bent at the waist, as if getting a closer look. After assuming that pose, his plan was to pull out his penis and pee..That was the plan anyway.Harry had just assumed his tire checking pose on the back right tire, the one opposite the road, when I first saw the red and blue flashing lights.Imperfect timing!The policeman asked Harry if he needed help. Harry did but not in the area the cop was offering. Harry said, “ No thanks.” but in his haste to achieved his goal of diversion, must have pissed on the front of his pants. The cop, not noticing, retreated into his car and drove away.After enduring a number of tasteless comments by yours truly about his penis being so small the cop couldn’t see it; Harry related his new concern, one that I had not yet seen.During the prior impromptu turnpike stop; in his haste for Harry to hide his true mission from the state policeman Ha

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rry had urinated all over the front of his pants.Which lead us to a new problem: we were due at Clifford’s in about 5 minutes. I offered to give Cliff a call and tell him we’d be a little late and give Harry a chance to dry off. We’d could point the A/C directly toward his crotch area and he’d be dried in 15 or 20 minutes.Harry would have none of it.His proposed solution: to carry his sports jacket over his arm a la French waiter. He could cover up his great wet mark by his jacket hanging down over his affected area. He’d hide it similarly when seated in Clifford’s study as we usually did when discussing retirement plans with he and his wife Hellen.Harry the problem solver. We’d be on time for the appointment, no one the wiser.We arrived at Clifford and Hellen’s precisely at 7:00 — perfect.Harry and I side by side after ringing the door chime waiting to be admitted.Soon the door opened. It was Hellen.Evening gentlemen! Good to see you again.Quick as a cat, she snatched Harry’s jacket from his arm, exclaiming, “Harryhereletmetakethisyoumustbeswaltering!”Oh!!She noticed.Silence.</article></body>

Nature Comes Calling On The New Jersey Turnpike

After enduring a number of tasteless comments by yours truly about his penis being so small the cop couldn’t see it; Harry related his new concern, one that I had not yet noticed.

The reason why Harry is my partner when I see wealthy clients is not because of his investment expertise as one might think. No need for brilliance in that respect, we pretty much always put retirement money into good solid mutual funds. Usually the Putnam Growth Fund.

The fund is not particularly sophisticated but reliable over the long run. Now retired, I’m glad I put much of my retirement there..

No, my partnership with Harry was mainly for his company.

Sometimes we drove many a mile for a 7:00 pm appointment and he was interesting and funny as hell. Harry put the interest back in the trip to a retired client’s house to discuss finances. Much better company than some of those tight assed back office researchers.

Our appointment with Clifford was typical. On a blazing hot August day Harry and I were driving the 20 some miles from our office in New York City to the affluent New Jersey suburb of Saddle River.

Toward the end of our journey, Harry informed me he had to take a wicked piss. His solution was to pull his Lincoln Town Car over on the shoulder of the the busy New Jersey Turnpike and pretend to be checking his tire. He bent at the waist, as if getting a closer look. After assuming that pose, his plan was to pull out his penis and pee..

That was the plan anyway.

Harry had just assumed his tire checking pose on the back right tire, the one opposite the road, when I first saw the red and blue flashing lights.

Imperfect timing!

The policeman asked Harry if he needed help. Harry did but not in the area the cop was offering. Harry said, “ No thanks.” but in his haste to achieved his goal of diversion, must have pissed on the front of his pants. The cop, not noticing, retreated into his car and drove away.

After enduring a number of tasteless comments by yours truly about his penis being so small the cop couldn’t see it; Harry related his new concern, one that I had not yet seen.

During the prior impromptu turnpike stop; in his haste for Harry to hide his true mission from the state policeman Harry had urinated all over the front of his pants.

Which lead us to a new problem: we were due at Clifford’s in about 5 minutes. I offered to give Cliff a call and tell him we’d be a little late and give Harry a chance to dry off. We’d could point the A/C directly toward his crotch area and he’d be dried in 15 or 20 minutes.

Harry would have none of it.

His proposed solution: to carry his sports jacket over his arm a la French waiter. He could cover up his great wet mark by his jacket hanging down over his affected area. He’d hide it similarly when seated in Clifford’s study as we usually did when discussing retirement plans with he and his wife Hellen.

Harry the problem solver. We’d be on time for the appointment, no one the wiser.

We arrived at Clifford and Hellen’s precisely at 7:00 — perfect.

Harry and I side by side after ringing the door chime waiting to be admitted.

Soon the door opened. It was Hellen.

Evening gentlemen! Good to see you again.

Quick as a cat, she snatched Harry’s jacket from his arm, exclaiming, “Harryhereletmetakethisyoumustbeswaltering!”

Oh!!

She noticed.

Silence.