My grandpa never bought an automobile, or even drove one, but he loved to hitchhike a ride into town so he could talk to the menfolk around the old country store to catch up on the local gossip.
When he couldn’t catch a ride he would ride his old mule to the country store, then tie it up to the porch rail and sit all day talking to anyone who came in.
One evening Grandpa asked a neighbor of ours as he was leaving the store if he could ride home with him. The neighbor said, “Sure,” but asked him what he would do with his mule.
The old swayback mule was leaning against the porch rail with one eye closed, and the other eye watching a couple of hopeful buzzards who were doing a low circle. Grandpa said that he would just turn him loose, and that he would follow them home.
The neighbor had his doubts, but Grandpa got in the car and they started home. At about 20 miles per hour, the neighbor looked back in the rearview mirror and sure enough, the old mule was trotting along close behind him with one eye watching Grandpa and the other eye watching to make sure that the buzzards had given up on him.
He speeded up to 30 and looked back. The mule was close behind him, so he speeded up to 40 and looked back. The mule was still close behind him. He speeded up to 50, but when he looked back the mule’s tongue was hanging out. It worried the neighbor and he asked Grandpa if the mule was all right.
Grandpa asked him which side of his mouth his tongue was hanging out. When our neighbor replied, “The left side of his mouth,” Grandpa told him to ease over a little bit and give him some room. “He’s giving a signal he’s going to pass!”