Last of Kerry

Perhaps not the very last, but certainly there is nothing on the horizon.
On that 1960 visit we drove out of Kenmare one day to drive round the Ring of Kerry, one of the nicest drives that I can remember, and very soon we saw a young woman walking by the side of the road. We offered her a lift and she began to talk,of her young husband, and her baby. She was poor, but she was happy, blissfully unaware of anything beyond her immediate understanding.
Later that morning we had to stop in Cahersiveen for petrol. I had never seen a gravity feed pump before: you have to pump up petrol a gallon at a time, from the storage tank, just as you would water from a well. An elderly man came out to serve us, and I explained we wanted the tank filled. He smiled at us, but uttered not a word. Then I saw a young man coming towards us, and he asked 'Can I help you?'
'Yes, we want the tank filled.'
'My father has no English, I'll take care of you.'
Then I understood. We were in part of the Gaeltacht, one of the few scattered areas where Gaelic is the everyday language.
Our last encounter was also in Cahersiveen. We went into a little shop to buy chocolate, not knowing what we might expect.
'You're from America, which part?'
'We live in Queens.'
'I lived in the Bronx for thirty years.'