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"Yes, we should," she tossed her red hair like a horse tail and commenced to trot back to camp.Watching that magnificent ass tighten up and start rolling like a bag full of cats was pretty distracting. I'm in fair shape but I never could run far. I could sprint but a 220 was too much. Plus, it was uphill. Still, I tried.She was waiting at the top of the hill. "One thing for sure ... you have to get in shape. You'll never be able to keep up. How long since you quit smoking?" February 18th 1972, 10:30 at night. You figure it out." You know the exact date? Why?" I remember monumental dates. Quiting smoking is pretty monumental. I can recall the end of the war in Germany. I was three years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Monumental dates I'm good at." You're kidding!" She was amazed."Nope, May 8th, 1945. My third birthday. My dad was washing the car. I was playing in the space between the backyard and the Victory garden. My mother came screaming out the door, "The war is. I was more interested in the freedom that having a carafforded as well as a license.I walked outside and hopped in. I plugged my phone into the stereo inthe car and opened iTunes on my phone to cue up some road music. I was,definitely, a "music guy" and my most priceless possession was my Fenderguitar upstairs in my room. A blue Telecaster with a Mesa Boogieamplifier. I had saved up for what felt like an eternity to outfitmyself with some nice gear and I relished in every opportunity I had toplay.iTunes didn't seem to want to load properly so I decided to pull out ofthe driveway and get moving. I'd problem-solve this on the way to thestore. I meandered down the street and hooked a right onto the main dragof my city. I glanced down at my phone and the playlist I had stillhadn't loaded.I grimaced. Why the hell wasn't this working I thought to myself. Ilooked back at the road to gauge my surroundings before reaching over tograb my phone. I picked it up and closed the app and opened it.
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