It was a long, dusty drive to L.A., but after 4 years BillyBob could hardly wait any longer. He got in his truck and tried the ignition. After four tries the diesel finally coughed to life and he laid the transmission into first. Time to put it in drive and hit the road. Only 20 minutes before the wedding was supposed to begin and 40 miles to go. He loved an excuse to pin the speedo in his tricked-out banana-yellow Ford Pinto. He always thought it strange that he pimped out a Pinto. I guess that if you've go it you might as well go look for some hood-rat Hos; they're the only ones who think a Pinto is a hot ride. Blaring the tunes of Hendrix, on the 8-track. Remember the classic 8-track? Nothing better. I turned the corner on Fifth and Vine flashing back to the smell of that red handkerchief I used to use to keep my long, dank hair out of my face. It smelled a bit like something that had just crawled out from under the refrigerator. Ew, whatever. I grabbed it and ran to the bedroom to donald duck it. Just another Saturday night.

 

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