Years ago, my wife Donna, 11-year-old son Eddie, and I decided to catch the latest Star Wars movie. We drove downtown in the family car—a vintage 1965 Dodge Polara, bought our tickets, and joined the line.

‘The Bridges of Madison County’ with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep was playing at the adjacent theatre. I’ve been a Clint Eastwood fan since age 12, and I know this much is true; Clint should never be in a ‘chick-flick.’

I glanced over at the guys in the ‘Bridges’ line and jokingly asked, “How can you possibly see this movie? Clint is our hero.” After all, there are two kinds of people in this world, those who go to chick movies and real men. I was only kidding, but the guys turned away while the women shot me dirty looks; Donna and Eddie pretended they didn’t know me.

Suddenly, a police car pulled up alongside us on the Granville Mall. The car screeched to a stop, the cops leaped out to chase some crooks, and in their haste, left the driver’s door open. A bus came speeding past, taking the door right off the police car! The crowd cheered while a young policeman shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in defeat. The bad guys got away.

“This is a sign!” I called to the men in the other lineup. “You mustn’t see this movie,” then, quoting Clint, I said, “Go ahead, make my day.”

As we exchanged Star Wars highlights driving home, a woman babbling on her cell phone pulled up alongside us. She was annoying, so I mimicked her by pulling faces and talking loudly into an imaginary phone; Eddie followed my lead. She freaked out! So, Donna turned the corner, and we drove away. The woman caught up at the next stoplight and told us we were losers with our crappy old car and that we couldn’t even afford cell phones! The three of us laughed until we cried. What a day!