My dune buggy has purple seats and is powered by rocket fuel. Instead of a mud mat for your boots, it has an ornate rug. I like to race in the snow. My number is 9, but I’m currently in first place. There’s no doors on my buggy; hop inside. You are my girlfriend, you are now riding with me, we are turning a corner. Careful, it’s slippery; there’s black ice — hold on to my bicep. We’re very far ahead, because you and I make a good driving team. By the way, if you intuit that you might be soon receiving a visit from your “monthly friend”, we can pull over and stop; then resume racing whenever you’re ready. I’m confident that we will remain in first place, even if we are stalled for several days. While we’re waiting, let me introduce you to my father: his name is Doug.
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