It's two (two!) two posts in one! Because I've not been posting often lately.
So I'm on my way home from work, listening to yet another book on CD. On my tiny little backroad that I take home, I passed a car going very slowly with his blinkers on. He waved me around, so I rolled down the window and asked if he needed help. He didn't, had a cell phone, all cool.
Later on the same road, I passed some goth-looking kids by a car parked at the side of the road, blinkers on, but they looked like they hadn't a care in the world and continued smoking butts and kind of waved "hi" as I went by, so I went on.
Then came the sirens. Firetruck passing me in the other direction. Then another. Then another. Then an ambulance. So I don't know what happened, and I can't find it on the local news/traffic websites, nor even on the CHP incident website. Backroads don't rate much, I guess.
But anyway, I heard a great line in my "book on CD" and thought I would share it to see if anyone still reading this lonely outpost of the blogosphere might recognize it (and I don't want to go out to the car to retrieve the CD, so it's close but only from a two-beered-up memory):
"So what's the plan?"
"Your call. You have two options. We could take you to the airport and fly you out. Six hours and it's over."
"What's the other option?"
"Chavez,
how would you like to get the fucker that did this to you?"