Dear Guy Who Stole My Truck, Wrecked It, and Walked Off With My Juggling Clubs,
I get that it’s nothing personal against me, that you have no idea who I am or what I do. You just thought, “Hey, that’s a sick truck chilling on the street,” and then you popped the lock, hot-wired it and drove off while I was at work-study. You even had the foresight to fill the tank (I usually only put five bucks in at a time). And when you took a sharp turn into the Causeway guard-rail — when they took you to the tow yard and refused to let you go home with the radio — I kind of felt for you. You even knew how to drive stick.
