Was driving my Dad's 66 4 door Chev Impala to the local bowling alley (told 'em I was going to the library). I had all the windows down and was smokin a Marlboro red. I flicked the butt out the window and rolled into the B-alley, parked and rolled up the windows and locked it. Wandered inside and hooked up with a coupla school buddies and just hung out drinking cokes and ogling the babes.
I hear a siren and look out the window... They're out front and... YUP! Here they come, looking for the owner of the Chevy Impala. DAMN! I ran outside, the car is FULL of smoke, ya can't even see thru it. I unlock the door and open it... WHOOSH! The flames roared out the door and burned my eyebrows off, I fell on the ground and the fire-folk pop the back door, dowse the backseat and then RIP IT OUT OF THE CAR! They put some kinda ointment on my face, stuffed the backseat back in the car and then made me fill out a form... name, phone number, address etc....
This whole time I'm thinking "My Dad is gonna KILL ME!" By the time I got home, I had a story all worked out... BUT, yep, you guessed it... They had already called the house and had told my Dad and Mom where I was, what I had said... everything.... My butt still aches when I tell the story... and yeah, I still smoke.... dumbass...
Drive Smoke Enjoy!
Edge