I cannot begin this story without first describing my car. After my first crap car was smashed to pieces in a wreck not my fault, I was on the look out for the cheapest but longest lasting car possible. The end result was he whom I refer to as "Chancey," the tan 1986 Pontiac Bonneville, complete or shall I say lacking all four hub caps, the hood ornament, and a general sense of dignity. Chancey is 21 years old, a year older than I am, but still has automatic locks and windows, although only the automatic windows actually work. Oh, and one more thing, in another road trip I am not chronicling in this story, my companions decided they wanted to graffity the inside of my car -- and so now anyone who rides in my car pulls out a Sharpie and signs their name, doodles, writes mathematical equations, or the infamous "Vaginas, Oo-Ha-Ha!" or "Drugs ---->"
