The Old Man At McDonald’s

thHM6WAVOBNearly every morning Quinton observed the same old man slowly almost drag himself across the 
floor and up to the counter at McDonald’s. The old man ordered the same thing; a plain biscuit and senior coffee with cream.
He was always dressed in bib overalls, plaid shirt, and a well worn John Deere cap. His face was always shaved. He would have looked just as comfortable in a suit.
Quinton wondered what the old codger’s story was.
The presence of the two there at the same time became so common that it elicited a nod to the other every now and then.
After several months Quinton asked the old man, “How ‘bout if I buy ya breakfast this morning?”
The old man smiled kindly. “That will throw my budget completely out of kilter.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid if I don’t spend everything that comes to me they may start to figure out I don’t need it and start taking some of it back, but perhaps I can spend excessively elsewhere.”
“How ’bout sitting with me?” Quinton said.
That began many mornings of coffee, biscuits, and stories told by an old man who seen the world change in his life time and as for himself traveled no further than 200 miles from the place he was born.
“Don’t you wished you had traveled and seen more of the world?” Quinton asked.
“Never really crossed my mind that much,” the old man said. “Got all I want right here. If I went to California, I would have wanted to go to Hawaii. If I went to Hawaii I would have wanted to go to China; it would have never ended and by the time I was all done I’d just end up home again.”
The old man dunked his biscuit in the coffee and took a bite. “You don’t get it do you.”
Quinton smiled. “No, sir, I don’t.”
“It is said that the biggest room in the world is the room for improvement, but it’s not empty; it’s full of shoulduvs, woulduvs, and coulduvs.”
“What is the name of the room you’re in?” Quinton said.

“Ah,” the old man said. “It’s a lonely room, but spacious; not too many find their way in. It’s called ‘no regrets.’”