An Odd Couple, Separated by 55 Years, but Not by Much Else

Karsten Moran for The New York Times Gene Bonagur, right, and Hector Castillo, are different in many ways. But they have become the closest of friends, having dinner together on a regular basis.

It was after midnight on a recent night at Sevilla, a Spanish restaurant in the West Village, and waiters wandered the aisles, watching the last two diners finish their second pitcher of sangria.

Gene Bonagur and Hector Castillo were in no hurry.

“Yeah, I’ll have a bit more,” Mr. Bonagur said as Mr. Castillo held the pitcher to pour.

“With the fruit, right?” Mr. Castillo offered, spooning out soused orange slices.

After the third or fourth toast of the evening, Mr. Castillo grabbed Mr. Bonagur’s Sinatra-era fedora, helped him with his overcoat and escorted him to a waiting white Explorer. “I hired a driver tonight as a special surprise,” Mr. Castillo said. “Why not?

That could be their motto.

Every Sunday, without fail, Mr. Castillo, who just turned 47, takes Mr. Bonagur, who just turned 102, out to dinner. Sometimes to neighborhood restaurants in Yonkers, where they both live, sometimes to an ethnic place in Queens or a trendy restaurant in Manhattan or to their favorite, Honey Thai’s Pavilion in the Bronx.

Nights tend to run long. Sometimes, afterward Mr. Castillo will take Mr. Bonagur to see the U.S.S. Intrepid on the Hudson River or somewhere new for dessert. Mr. Bonagur is always game. Sure, he says. Why not?

Every Thursday, on the other hand, is boys’ night in. That’s when Mr. Castillo picks up a bottle of red and swings by Mr. Bonagur’s home, a Cape Cod-style house he had built for his bride in 1950. Mr. Bonagur, who keeps his own house, cooks up quite a feast for Mr. Castillo. He favors meat and potatoes. They always sip their “red water.” Don’t ask. It’s their joke.

Yes, they are an improbable pair, as odd as those interspecies pals â€" dog and pigeon, cat and duck, horse and kitten â€" that have become staples on Internet videos. Mr. Castillo, who owns a Getty gas station in Yonkers, didn’t know any English when he moved to New York from El Salvador at age 16. Mr. Bonagur, who was a graduate student in physics at Columbia University when he joined the Army during World War II, was chairman of the science department at Albert Leonard High School in New Rochelle. He retired at 65.

They met at Mr. Castillo’s business several years ago. Mr. Bonagur, a customer, asked Mr. Castillo to help him get rid of his 1992 Olds Cutlass Ciera and pick out a more reliable car, eventually a Toyota Camry. Then Mr. Bonagur (who drives only around his neighborhood) asked Mr. Castillo if he could drive his wife, Ruth, to the doctor in Scarsdale, a few times.

When Mr. Bonagur’s wife â€" of 63 years â€" died, Mr. Castillo went to the funeral and the two bonded.

That was about five years ago.

“We just clicked,” Mr. Castillo said.

That two men of such different generations and backgrounds should be thick as blood makes sense once you know them. Mr. Castillo was raised by his maternal grandparents, who would be nearly Mr. Bonagur’s age now if they were alive. He found it completely natural to spend time with a healthy, smart older man.

Karsten Moran for The New York Times Mr. Bonagur and Mr. Castillo like to sample different restaurants, but a Thai place in the Bronx is one of their regular haunts.

Mr. Bonagur, whose only age limitations are some hearing loss and bad knees, was relieved to meet someone who didn’t treat him as if he had nothing to say. As the two began spending time together â€" Mr. Bonagur has no children or relatives who live nearby â€" he discovered an intelligent, like-minded soul.

“They don’t come better than Hector,” he said, as Mr. Castillo blushed to his hairline.

Their twice-weekly boys’ nights evolved, though they see each other times as well.

And every Sunday feels like a holiday. Mr. Castillo picks the menu and keeps ordering. (His only rule: he treats.) The two are always joking. Both dress dapper. Both flirt.

“I’d walk her down the aisle,” Mr. Bonagur said at Sevilla, his face lighting up at a pretty face.

“Gene! You need a ring!” Mr. Castillo said.

“I’ve got one,” Mr. Bonagur said.

Mr. Bonagur is still house proud. He insisted that Mr. Castillo give a visitor a tour of his house, a pin-neat, midcentury time capsule.

“Show her the Camaro!” Mr. Bonagur said.

Mr. Bonagur still keeps his late wife’s mint 1972 metallic green convertible.

People have accused Mr. Castillo of hanging out with Mr. Bonagur so he could buy or inherit that car.

Potential girlfriends have accused him of a father fixation.

Woe to any woman who nags Mr. Castillo for spending time with Mr. Bonagur. One that did â€" “She was a doctor!” Mr. Castillo said â€" is no longer part of his life.

“I would break up with any girlfriend who came between us,” Mr. Castillo said.

Indeed, Mr. Castillo’s current girlfriend, a 17-year veteran of the New York Police Department, said she had learned to leave the two alone.

“They’ve got their nights and their time,” she said. (She did not want her name revealed, she said, because of her job.) “They do tend to stay out,” she said.

Case in point: After Sevilla, Mr. Castillo dropped Mr. Bonagur off at 1 a.m.

When Mr. Castillo escorted Mr. Bonagur to his door, he had to scold him.

“Do you believe Gene keeps shoveling his own walk?! Gene, please, you’re gonna give me and you a heart attack when you do that!”

“Heh, heh,” Mr. Bonagur said. “See you Thursday.”

Karsten Moran for The New York Times The two men met when Mr. Bonagur asked for  Mr. Castillo’s help in selling his car.