We returned back to the city and with no phone or permanent residents, it seemed Larry would be lost to us.  However, I was recently able to track him down again through a local landlord who had been helping him move some sowing machines from the mansion. I found him at his new apartment, sat wrapped in fur, clearly diminished in health since our last meeting, enjoying an evening cigarette on the porch.  The bank had finally foreclosed, and the mansion was now almost completely empty, and he had taken with him all that he could carry. He didn’t miss all the old junk; the antiques and valuable fabrics,’what would I do with it anyway?’ Yet he told me he had found something invaluable as he was moving out; a small tin car his sister had given him years ago when he was just a boy, ‘the oldest and most precious thing I own.’  We said our farewells and then noticing I was clearly under dressed for the brutal Hudson weather, he put out his cigarette and asked if I’d like to take a coat with me ‘I have just the one for you.’   He struggled back into the house and begin wading through piles of old clothes and linen and pulled out an old biker jacket.  I couldn’t say no.  A rare breed indeed, thank you Larry.