Route 66 was a hoot. All those intrepid travelers, far from home and all, filled with the spirit of adventure. No sense of limitations. No sense, period.
Motor lodges. Drive-in movies. Car hops. Christ! Car hops were the living end. God bless America.
He mowed down the “Welcome” sign and followed his nose to the soda shop downtown. Darla held court in a booth, wearing a poodle skirt, surrounded by jocks.
She waved them off when she saw him, “William. Thank you for coming.”
“Don’t know why you think I’ll have any better luck than you, springing ol’ Bat Face.”