b2 Publishing: UTG 12 - Cashing in:
I as halfway home from the therapists office at U-Med before I noticed them. The black Crown Vic' with out a spec of dust on it wasn't fooling anybody. My initial thoughts of loosing them in rush hour traffic dissolved when I remembered that I in fact was not driving a Bullitt edition Mustang and that my trusty 4 cylinder would do no more than make them cough a little from the invertible smoke screen that would occur if I tried to bark the tires.
So instead I did what any other god fearing American would do when faced with such a situation while driving his brother's car would do, clinically depressed or not. I slowed down to a crawl as we approached the interstate, forcing them to catch up, obviously trying hard not to pass me. Then stopping at the cloverleaf on a yellow light I put it in park, gunned the ignition one last time, and while they choked on my emissions I got out and walked diagonally across the intersection daring the off- ramp traffic to take me out in the process.
Unfortunately no one had enough guts or anger to turn me into street pizza so I made it across in time disappear among the crowd of 9-5ers getting off the 29 bus and heading for the check cashing joint before beelining to the Tally-Ho dive bar.
Figured that I had killed more birds with that one stone than the vice president ever did with a shotgun. Sure, it would be only a matter of time before they caught up with me. But at least I would have time for a few beers prior to calling Rich and giving him the great news about his car.
Besides, that was just plain fun.
Until I realized what I had left in my brother's car.
The beers would have to wait. And the first call I needed to make was not to my brother.
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Keep it real, keep it clean, let me have it....