Back in 1972…
It was getting dark as we sped south on Route Ten. The Point beers barely giving us a buzz after the Hilltop burger settled in. Then out from behind the fricking trees pulls a lit squad as we cross County Q at 120 mph.
“Just let off the gas and coast.” “Yeah right! The 12 Weber trumpets will sound like an atomic popcorn machine and the bitch could catch fire.”
Blum, blum, blum, blum, we roll to a stop.
Here he comes. Tap, tap on the window.
“What kind of fancy car is this?” the Wisconsin state trooper quipped.
“It’s the new Pinto,” Jay responded reaching for his wallet.