I pulled in, parked. In the space ahead was a rust bucket, its hatchback held together by an interlaced hoary mat of bumperstickers proclaiming, explaining, pleading a dizzying number of lost causes. A striding young man with long long hair lugging two near bursting grocery bags, put one down and opened the door. I told him I'd enjoyed reading his car. In response he grinned without end, beatific. 

"Yeah! They were on there when I got the car! I got to keep 'em!"

1/5/2022