I've said it a million times. Oil use in combustion engines is assanine. It's a great resource, with many uses, but just blowing it up in small quantities is retarded.
And so, in an effort to reduce the usable portions of gas remaining in the marketplace, Myself, V, and Chris piled into the car and drove about 300 miles. Well, only I drove. None of my friends EVER have drivers liesences.
We arrivd at Goat Head Rock Beach with a bag full of wobbly cheese, cucmbers, mustard, bread, and my camrea. V left her TV dinners in the car, where they cooked in the sun. She ate them on the way home, pausing only once to carry out an impromptu hit when we passed through the city of Tomales. The Hell's Angels were taking over the city. This was fortuitous, as V had been hunting the president of the Bodega Bay chapter for three weeks.
Chris spent the day poking dead things with sticks, except when he took the time and care to poke a live thing. From headless dead goats to dead miniature Portugese Man-O-War.