Cone

John had a cone and he wasn't afraid to use it — with his son-in-law.

He loved orange cones. He had a big one in his garage. He wasn't afraid to use it with his son-in-law.

His son, Dave, found it when he was cleaning out the garage. It was not small, not one of those cones coaches use in kids' soccer. This was construction quality. The sort you can see on the freeway from a mile away. It was the sort of cone you almost need a special license to buy.

Email contributing columnist Herb Benham at herbbenhamvolunteer@gmail.com. His column appears in The Californian every other Sunday; the views expressed are his own.