|
When your poor li'l ol' eyes can't take any more beatin' from that mean 'n' nasty Mr. Sun, just find you'self a bitty motel to shack up for the dawn/dusk and then hit the ol' road again when ya wakes up.
But, if'n they does decides to reconstruck them highways, I get dibs on being that dude who makes a ton o' money just wearin' a vest and wavin' a sign that says "slow" on one side and "stop" on the other.
|