Come on, knock on my door.

    After the long cold isolation of winter, I have had three visitations to my door in recent weeks.  Two women presented me with a religious tract and their best wishes, a man parked his truck and asked if he could take the articles of junk I had placed by the roadside, and today a man stopped and offered to buy the silver dollars he was sure I must have, even offering to wait in his car while I collected them.  I responded (1)thank you, (2)sure, and (3)I have no silver to sell.  Or gold either, though he insisted most people have at least one piece of old golden something.