“We are racing down Main Street. Arthur is right on the tail of a blck sedan with tinted windows that won't pull over. He slams the horn."Arthur," I say.The car doesn't yield."Arthur," I say.He hits the horn again, still close on the car's bummper."Arthur, our turn was back there.”
“We are racing down Main Street. Arthur is right on the tail of a blck sedan with tinted windows that won't pull over. He slams the horn."Arthur," I say.The car doesn't yield."Arthur," I say.He hits the horn again, still close on the car's bummper."Arthur, our turn was back there.”
Peter CanningSave QuoteView Quote
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“We are racing down Main Street. Arthur is right on the tail of a blck sedan with tinted windows that won't pull over. He slams the horn."Arthur," I say.The car doesn't yield."Arthur," I say.He hits the horn again, still close on the car's bummper."Arthur, our turn was back there.”
Peter CanningSave QuoteView Quote
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