You know what they say about assuming, officer.

The sound of tires rolling across the street sounded like waves rolling on and off the beach. Lost in thoughts of another place and time, I turned the corner of 11th and Garnett, heading south. My 1990 Toyota Camry softly vibrating as I accelerated.  I squinted my eyes at the seemingly blinding bright street lights and yawned; it couldn't have been much later than midnight, but constantly running from place to place can wear a guy out. I hadn't even had time to take my car into a mechanic to have the tail lights looked at, which still hadn't been replaced since the last time I had an encounter with the police, which involved a very awkward confrontation with the sheriff and a pocket knife.