Here's something I wrote in hospital a few years ago...it cheered me the hell up: I just want to get into this damned thing, and fucking Drive! I'd drive, and drive, and never look the bleep back. I'd have a sawed-off pump action shotgun on the seat next to me. A crate of ammo 10 bottles of Jack Daniels and cartons of Luckies. Don't smoke but likes having them around. Plus a bleeping large box with rolls of hundreds, passports to several Central American countries a letter of introduction from Keanu Reeves aka John Wick, and a large pack of aspirins. All that and a notarized safe conduct pass from the Angel of Death and I should be okay.
With a motor like that the cops will never catch you. But are you sure you've got enough Jack Daniels?
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