Wheels on Wednesday

I was feeling a little frisky after my 2 mile walk with my buddy Doug...when I saw the souped-up car. I headed inside of the barber shop, and there was only one guy getting a cut.

"Which one of you two owns the piece of junk out front?"

The guy in the chair tensed. "What's it to ya...Old Timer?" (I hate it when people call me Old Timer!)

"How about you and me in a quarter mile drag from Rolston Rd. to the barber shop?"

He looked out the window and saw my mini-van...and snickered. "Is that what you're racing with Gramps?" (I hate it when people call me Gramps!)

"Laugh now Hot Rod, but...it's not the vehicle, it's the driver."

"OK then Methuselah...let's do this." (I hate it when people call me Methuselah!)

We drove out to Rolston Rd., and my friend Doug was going to use his Detroit Tigers shirt as a starting flag. He dropped it, and the jalopy went screeching and flying over the railroad tracks...where 2 police cars were waiting. (You see...I had called them on my way out to the starting line.) I returned his snicker, and turned left on Rolston to head for home.

I get a little risky...
when I'm feeling frisky.

Believe what you will.