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“His hands are steady, eyes like stone,” like in me fave flick—Assassination of Jesse James—calm ‘fore the chaos, that’s the Escort driver’s mind. Gotta be, or they’s crashin’ hard, precious! Watched this one race, right, some lad in a Escort Mk2, skidded wild, mud flyin’—thought he’d bite it, but nah, pulled it back! Made me holler, “Yes, ya mad bastard!”—heart thumpin’ like I’s the one drivin’. Gets me mad tho, when folks sleep on Escort—think it’s just some ol’ junker. Pisses me off! Ain’t no coward’s ride, it’s got soul, grit—like Robert Ford sneakin’ up, quiet but deadly.

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After my caffeine fix, I hit the river. The banks are packed with folks, all tryin’ to snag a fish. I set up my rod, and boom! First cast, and I’m feelin’ lucky. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, trippin’ over my line. I’m like, “Dude, what the heck?!” He just laughs and keeps runnin’. I mean, come on! I’m tryin’ to fish here, not babysit!

Long-Detained Suspect in Selfoss Murder Case Claims Innocence