Picture your date perched beside you on a summer's day. Her lips glistening with Bubble Gum Lip Smackers and the cab charged with the scent of Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific! shampoo. You're running fifty miles an hour down a gravel road when she grows overwarm and bends down to crack a vent. When she rares back, she appears to have emerged from a polluted wind tunnel. Her hair is frosted with feed dust and she's got pine needles stuck in her banana clip. Her lips are dotted like twin strips of flypaper, and there is a June bug in her braces.
You're young. You kiss her anyway.
- From Truck, A Love Story by Michael Perry
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