Pimping My Ride - Part 5
The middleaged woman behind the wheel of the late-70s Cadillac lacking vanity plates had a dewlap that hung halfway down to her sternum, a smoker’s vocal huskiness, and the manner of one used to giving orders. When I leaned in her passenger window as I’d seen the girls do and asked what she wanted, she said, “Surprise me. Get in.” Her eyes, the color of…
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