Peruano father and son duo stand by their '84 Toyota van wagon, holding cables up high to an audience of frenzied autoists on 8 Avenue. You pull right in to give them a jump but nothing works. They coyly inquire a ride to Cobble Hill, if their 300 pound floor finishing machine fits in the trunk. The three of us barely manage. Meanwhile the radio blares about the jihadist diaspora, closet quranophilia, and auto-erotic asphyxiation . We return from Brooklyn to exhale that the meter maids have only now begun their rounds around the block.
I've been studying Mediterranean demographics and cartography in preparation for an adventure this spring. Not sure if these countries allow one to pass through without a return ticket. I think sufficient bank funds are a viable alternative. If anyone has hitch hiked through southern Europe, please share some info.
Damn, that's a mighty fine post. I can almost breathe it in, is the air not quite crisp yet?
ReplyDeleteI've been entertaining the debates via radio, having just moved my mom from Tucson to Gainesville, FL. Everytime McCain says: "My friends," my mom says, tartly, "You're not my friend."
PS: Happy New Year!
yeah i just tell everyone im voting for Ross Perot a they look at me strangely as they exit the cab....keeps me amused .
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