"Boy, 16 could be here" he thought, "I've never been in
this neighborhood before. There could be Boy, 16 anywhere."
The cool wind felt good against his bare chest.
"l HATE BOY, 16" he thought.
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) reverberated
through his entire car, making it pulsate as the $9 wine
circulated through his powerful thick veins and washed away his (merited) fear of minorities after dark.
"With a car, you can go anywhere you want" he said.