“Do you want to stop for any bakery stuff?” Dad asked me. He was driving me to JFK to catch my flight back to Spain. It was 4:20pm. We’d only left the house twenty minutes ago.

“Nah, I’m good, but if you want to stop. . . “

“No, I don’t need anything,” he said. “I was just seeing if you wanted something.”

“I don’t. But it sounds like you do.”

“No, but if you wanted some apple things, it’s the place with the donuts and muffins.”

Knowing full well he wanted to stop, I ended the game by saying, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Dad got an apple donut and a chocolate milk. I got an apple turnover. Dad pulled out his credit card. “Look. I’m actually going to pay with a credit card! That’s what people do these days.”

“Uh. Not really. I just flash my phone.”

The cashier told him to insert his card in the machine.

“You still have a card you have to insert?” I asked. “I can just hold mine right here. . . but I don’t even do that anymore. I just hold my phone right here and I’m done.”

“Okay, okay,” Dad says. “At least I’m not paying with a check.”

I look at the teenaged cashier. “Have you ever even seen a check?” I asked her.

“I’ve seen them. But we don’t take them here,” she said.

Back in the car, Dad and I finished our apple goodies. And then I watched as he drained his chocolate milk. “You drink chocolate milk?”

“Yeah! What’s wrong with chocolate milk?”

“Uh. . . It’s just not something I think most 74-year-old men drink.”

“How much longer are you here for?” he asked.