dodgy dodges and lolly's kitchen

desperate times lead to bad choices

Lolly drove an old Dodge

His Ram 1500 looked ready to fall off the side of the mountain.

It’s frame, crumpled in the middle resembled a broken backed burro limping to its death.

Originally white, it looked more like orange pineapple ice cream with a bit of a vanilla swirl.

There was nothing vanilla bout Lolly. He was as dodgy as his Dodge.

You don’t see a lot of old Dodges on the road.

They are known to be pretty and cheap and fun and powerful

But when they start to go, they go fast.

Road salt is like meth or oxy to a Dodge. Sure, they’ll play nice together for a while, but eventually and inevitably, that shit catches up with ya.

It’s not only the body or frame.

A Dodge truck is like Berlin in the 90’s

It’s a big ass party, with little bit of E and a whole lotta techno.

Anything and everything goes.

The brakes, transmission, engine, suspension, steering and even the upholstery.

Most Dodges more than fifteen years old cry out in the night like a soldier between the trenches with his arms blown off, its voice rasping kill me now…

Lolly’s Dodge was on its last legs

Lolly himself looked like he was on his last legs.

And us?

We were just getting to our feet.

And Lolly did kitchens.

And we need a kitchen.

Pronto.

We probably should have waited.

But that’s a story for another day.