Remember when you saved my life down in Algodones when I whistled for you like Night Rider and you raced in there and whisked me from the clutches of the gang that was trying to abduct me? Good times, my friend.
Yeah, well, I sold you.
A braced pair. A stable. A quiver. A small fleet.
The T100 has more payload. Sorry. I'm all about the payload these days. We've grown apart, Tacoma. No hard feelings.
For what it's worth, I miss your smile. And your better gas mileage. This T100 is really sucking it down. It's ridiculous.
1 comment:
Gutsy play, my friend, gutsy.
Post a Comment