No one wants to hear about the one that got away. No, this isn’t sand script, the fucking story just disappeared.

Now where was I? Yes, Texas.
Mile Marker 130 on HWY287, Armstrong County, Texas. I could just imagine how well the "crusty" look I gave for my flattering drivers license photo was winning over Officer Moore, as he checked my license and registration. I tried the "ditzy girl" routine this time, knowing it was a long shot, hoping that apologizing profusely, and assuring him that I’d never drive my parents' car that fast intentionally, would be convincing. Officer Moore was a reasonable man he returned and handed me my second warning of the trip, I drove away. What is the proper etiquette for receiving a warning? I am pretty sure thank yous, tossing the ticket onto the shotgun seat and dropping the car into first wasn't the smartest of methods. Was I supposed to lie (again) and say, no, I won't ever speed? No, that's insulting. It was just that I'd had a late start. The Oldsmobile was sick and anything above 78 the day before sent the car lurching. Earlier that morning I'd asked the Concierge at my comfy Super 8 Motel, if he knew of a mechanic shop near by, "No", he said uselessly, as disappointment oozed from my well rested continental fed body, "but, let me look." Jerry proceeded to go through great pains, answering the phone, helping other guests, flipping through the phone book and finding me an Oldsmobile dealership, yes they do still exist, olds dealerships and nice people named Jerry. The 'Damsel in Distress' routine was paying off, and good practice for my upcoming performance, with Officer Moore. Sweet Jerry, found the dealership, made an appointment, drew me a map, and sent me on my way.
"The car has problems", I explained to Greg the Service Manager, and “they began yesterday."
We looked under the hood. I was gunning it past a big rig, daydreaming about the evening I was anticipating. I was at 1,800 miles of the 3,500-mile trip, and since I'd recently ended a 14-year-old habit earlier that week, thanks to the encouragement of one New Jersey, Elizabeth County, Summons, see 10/23/01, thoughts of sex, drugs and a big fancy pool were very comforting. This fantasy hotel had a big pool with a nice handsome Texan wading in the shallow end for me. The coil apparently had blown out of the Cutlass' while I was kind of going 90mph. I guess I remember it happening because the sound of the shaking car momentarily dissolved the cute Texan. We limped to Fort Worth, top speed 72 mph, arriving at 8:56pm.