Hopefully the Times can get Charlie Kaufman to write the adaptation for the silver screen.The guide - a petite young woman named Mindy who kept her blond hair pulled into a ponytail with a pink scrunchie but carried herself with a trace of jock swagger - took one look at my soft hands and determined immediately and quite correctly that I wasn't the kind of guy who could fix his own radiator. My mechanical abilities dwindle just past lifting the hood. Mindy arranged to have the Impala towed to a local shop. Then she loaded me into her pickup truck. The exterior was bashed and scuffed, and the cab was awash in good working-class trash - spark-plug boxes and empty gasket packs, shell casings, that sort of thing. We accelerated manfully from the curb. She handled the stick shift with authority, which gave me certain twinges. And I admit I noticed how her quadriceps arched against her shorts when she worked the clutch. She told me about her motorcycle.
[Hat tip: Marknew, who's apparently still among the living, and still reading the Sunday New York Times.]
{mos_ri}
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