I met Mr. Brinton once at a Johnny Roscoe fillin' station in Bryson City, Missouri back in the swelterin' summer of '76. I was at the counter payin' for a Peach Nehi and a small bag of beef jerky when I come to realize I was 71 cents short. That's when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see Mr. Brinton; a vision of goodwill in a striped, light blue seersucker suit, hand extended with three quarters in it.
"Traveling in this heat without your Peach Nehi would simply be intolerable," he said, and I noticed he had one himself. I thanked him kindly, took the quarters, then continued on my way to Canton, Ohio.
You can imagine my surprise when 20-some years later our paths crossed again in Whistle Creek, North Carolina at the annual Hickory Nut Festival. As I stood at a vendor's cart in purchase of a bag of caramelized almonds I heard a thunder of voice proclaim from my rear, "I trust you have your full payment this time, Peach Nehi." I turned to behold the now, "Doctor Brinton" in that same seersucker suit accompanied by a devilish grin. After a further exchange of pleasantries we agreed to breakfast the next morning and parted ways.
We broke our fast together at the local Spit 'N Whistle by Aunt Mable's Inn. Doctor Brinton ordered for the both of us. When the plates arrived he commented in his gentile manner, "I trust you take your eggs with bourbon, Peach Nehi. Why anything else would just be intolerable!" and he pulled a flask from his breast pocket and gave us both a healthy pour.
That breakfast was the last I ever saw of Doctor Brinton, but to this day I think of him every morning as I take my eggs and bourbon. I've come to agree that anything else would just be intolerable.
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