I don't know how I don't get into regular car accidents. I am enthralled with this city. I love looking at all its details, the good and the bad. The beautiful and the macabre. My brain does not allow me to ignore the cracks in the pavement any less than the street murals on Midtown business. So imagine my delight when while driving home down Stockton Boulevard I spotted a man I would come to know only as "Joseph".

The first thing that caught my eye was the fact that he was walking barefoot. Barefoot on some of the least-forgiving sidewalks in the city of Sacramento. The second thing I noticed was his overalls, which by observation I have to imagine have not left his body in quite some time. Once my eyes caught sight of the hat on top of that head, I knew I was the presence of a true piece of work.

I pulled over to observe this man as he navigated an abandoned parking lot towards and long forgotten self-service carwash. He was carrying a plastic bag that held to "tall boys", one was Old English 800, the other Mickey's Fine Malt Liquor. Once he arrived at his destination, he propped up a small American flag that was upside-down near the entrance to his lair. Unable to quell my curiosity from afar, I pulled up close (but not too close) to him in my truck, and pulled out three one-dollar bills which I held up to display to him.

"For pictures." I said, while holding up the currency in my left hand.

"Sure!" he quickly responded, no doubt feeling he was to be the benefactor of the transaction. "Where do you want me?"

I have to admit I was surprised at how quickly he accepted my offer. Perhaps I projected my own pride into the situation, because I believe if our roles were reversed, I would recoil in shame.

"Holding the flag. And hold still." I directed him.

He took the direction well, and seemed to enjoy the attention. He poised for several takes happily, and with the patience of a saint as I dealt with a rather stubborn iPhone photo interface. When I got what I thought I wanted I told him to come and collect his bounty.

"What can I call you?" I asked him as he approached my truck.

"Joseph."

"How long have you been out here Joseph?" I asked while looking through his dark tinted glasses into his bright-blue eyes.

"Just a day. I live with my daughter. I told her I'd be home tonight. I do what I say. I don't want her to worry." Joseph told me. I believe that he believed what he told me, and that what he told me wasn't true at the same time. Joseph appeared to not be in complete control of his mental faculties.

"Cops don't like it when you drink here, so I'm leaving soon." he said, as if to downplay his plans, which were obviously to consume the two tallboys in his possession.

"I don't care." I responded, not to be mean, but just to disarm his worry. I wasn't going to report him, or judge him. I only wanted to capture him. For the ages.

"Thanks." he said as I gave him the three dollars he had earned.

"Take care Joseph." I responded, not knowing exactly what that meant. As I drove away headed back towards my comfortable home with my beautiful wife and baby daughter I felt so puzzled.