The streets were alive with Christmas music and
frantic shoppers as the green 1974 Ford LTD drove
onward, sleet pelting its cracked windshield. The stores
were pushing Christmas sales and signs from Toys for Tots
and the Salvataion Army abounded. It was a typical mid December afternoon in Lansing, Michigan.

“There’s a zippo in the jockey-box,â€? Cameron offered as he
sped past an unappreciative motorist who flashed his brights menacingly. “Those old matches you got are older than this boat.â€?

“Stop sketchin’. She’s apples.” Jim said as he lit his Newport 100 with the silver-black zippo lighter, fumbling to put it back.

“Hang on, I’m ‘bout to go!” Cameron said. He slammed the brakes and opened the car door, the turbid smell of car exhaust in the air.

“Cam, what are you doing?” Jim asked. “Come on, man don’t do it. They got brats. Cam!”

“Hey you! Why you all flashin’ your lights at me. Get outta the car! Get outta the car, now!!”

The middle aged man stepped out of the car and said, “I’m going to give