They are there, but I am here Sunday, July 14, 2002 I took my bike to five different gas stations last night. I started with 45 cents, but air machines will only take quarters and require 50 cents at that. Most of the air machines were broken anyway, but I collected change from pay phones and then exchanged it for quarters at the post office. The post office keeps the air conditioning blasting all night. It was really cold in there. I saluted the video cameras as I trumped my delimma. I spent about two hours trekking through mud and wet grass, and a bat tried to bite my face off, but I eventually got air in my bike tires. Boy, did it feel good. Riding my bike fast through the chill shadows of night was exhilirating, and I almost got the suave guts to write a person a saucy letter when I got home. I would invite them to drink wine by the railroad tracks. But, I'm not sure I'll really do that now. In conclusion, Elf, you are definately a better tagger than the Hood Rats, but you are still, in the words of Giovanna, gimp as hell.
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