You climb into your old, beat up 96' Honda Civic. The door doesn't quite shut as usual but you slam it the best you can. "Hey, at least I won't fall out," you think.
You're on your way to your sister's house. She didn't tell you to come over or anything. It's just, suburbia is getting really boring today and you want to head downtown to see if there's a little more...life. As you hop on the highway the wind roars through the gap in your door and you can't really hear the music. You turn your radio up to full blast.
Van Halen is on the radio screaming about Panama. You nod your head along, even though you were never really into this song.
It isn't long before the song is ending and you're pulling off onto the surface streets. You screech around the corner a little too quickly and your tire blows out. "Fuck!" you exclaim to nobody. But you're just not in the mood to take care of this right now so you pull over and park. You're only three blocks from your sister's place anyway. Maybe you'll go steal a beer from her fridge to feel better and shoot the shit with big sis for a while. Then you'll figure out what to do about the car.
Upon arriving at your sister's house you realize her car isn't there. But, you've come this far and still don't want to walk back to your car so you knock on the door.
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