Garage man

I've developed an uncanny friendship with one of the security guards at the parking garage downtown. Before you get too creeped out and wonder what kind of person even would think about having such a relationship, don't. It's rather simple.
There is an old man. He wears a dark blue collar-less coat all year round and he dons a white moustache. He's probably in his early 70s. He used to walk around the parking garage, checking for pass-less cars, but I believe he gave that up, unless he does this job while I am not watching...not that I watch him all the time, I don't, I'm just saying I haven't seen him roam the cold concrete garage in the near past.
He sits in the booth by the entrance to a certain lot, and one day I started waving to him. It may have been my red hair or my white coat that made me recognizable to him, but whatever it was, he started waving back.
Now every day I look for him in that booth...sometimes he is replaced by a younger person doing homework. Sometimes I pass him walking, though this is rare. I did pass him today, and I said hello. He has a wonderfully rich voice, lower and younger than I anticipated.
I hope he doesn't keel over and kick the can before I graduate, for my day would not be complete without a sighting of the Garage Man.