First, Bob trades a goat for an old car. (That foreign tin cup went to the scrap yard after many hassles with a junk license and removing the gas tank.) Next, he buys a 1968 Chevy Impala the color of our old refrigerator. This was not a goat trade, but it would have been worth at least eight. It only has a bit of rust here and there. To make it a trifecta of old cars, last night he hauled in a rusty yellow Buick Skylark with four flat tires and parked it by the barn.
The empty nest has become a full garage. Or junkyard.