Well, it can’t get any worse right? So I sit back, try to relax, and search my mind for a story that might buy me some time until she gets tired of driving or maybe runs out of precious fuel.

I recall that van, the one that passed me on that road covered with white, satin shit. Right by the corner where I was abducted. Remember? Yeah, I think about that, and I think about Carlisle. Without a thought my mouth opens, and I begin to tell a complete stranger the last ten years of my life. The story of Tortured Blue, as I like to call it. My story, the only story I have. The only one worth hearing or telling. I pour it out like there’s no tomorrow, mainly because well, there might not be one.

“I was twenty, and in this local rock band, Tortured Blue. I lived in Carlisle, Pennsylvania – a small town known for nothing but a decently popular car show.” The memories came flowing back now and I began to feel the nostalgia. This was going to be an interesting night.

To be continued…