Lord knows why but I woke up this mornings super nostalgic for my old high school car, a 1998 blue Beretta that was passed down to me from Pete. I miss the too much stolen Party City paraphernalia dangling from the rearview and the ridiculous bumper stickers and the gummy bears ground into the floormats and the play props in the trunk. Eventually, the drivers’s side door essentially fell off while I was driving down the freeway, and Papa Brunstetter was at that point kind enough to replace it. Beretta: I miss you, wherever you are, probably in Parts.

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