I led Rita to my barn. She said her car was gas. I bet that I could get her car moving with some fuel and a jump. I opened the big door and started my ’87 GMC. It was two shades of brown, 4x4, and had a five-gallon jerry can strapped in the bed. I flipped the switch for the headlights. Rita looked at the dashboard like it was alien. I rolled the truck o…
