Last Updated on March 13, 2014 by Roff Graves

I could fill a book about  my encounters as a Motor Vehicle Investigator with the Gypsy people but one of my mind’s most  boggling experiences came years later when I owned the antique shop/gallery on Cherokee Lane. A young man, I assumed to be Gypsy, came up as I was getting out of my pickup. He struck up a friendly conversation. Soon he told me that he would bet me $20. that he could tell me my favorite flower. There was no way he could know. I told him, “Let’s go for it!” He told me that he didn’t want to  cheat and to take a pencil and right it down. Being careful so he couldn’t see it, I wrote it down. I can’t remember what I wrote but it wasn’t an easy one–probably Fuchsia. Anyway, he told me I had just written Fuchsia and asked me to show him what I’d written. I should him and handed him a $20. bill. He graciously thanked me. I begged him, even offered to pay him to show me how he did it. He explained to me that his people just knew and there was no way I could learn. —Memories–olRoff

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