For all of my life, I have not met Bob Dylan. In fact, not meeting Bob Dylan is a big part of my day-to-day. I can honestly say that my close, personal relationship with Bob Dylan, established when I was a teen and more deeply developed over subsequent decades, only exists to the extent that it has not happened yet. Sure, there was that time recently when my car almost collided with Dylan’s tour bus behind the Capitol Theater in Port Chester, New York, but my wife, who is an excellent driver, deftly evaded the careening behemoth as it turned a blind corner and thus assured that our close, personal encounter was not to be. In my many years, though, one time, and only one time, my not meeting Bob Dylan was particularly remarkable.
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