innocently rusting in the back lot, it never suspected the torture that awaited a few words and a rented backhoe away.
chris of perk made the rounds, saying something like "hey, dan, we're going to tear up the old car out back up with the backhoe in five minutes."
how about yes?
those things i never got to break or make when i was ten... the monstrosities concoctable by a boy with a backhoe, they found at least some release when the rear window burst into ten thousand pieces between my hydraulically augmented bucket thumb and earthen forefinger.
mine was not the only turn, and, well, there's something about an attractive girl with a single-mindedness that the tires just *must* go.
they must have been steel belted, because she hooked one of them with a bucket tooth and lifted the whole broken carcass five feet in the air before dropping it.
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it's a good thing phil drank too much last night and cancelled practice, because i totally would have missed the whole thing.