"I've got a list of license plates," the tow truck guy growled, "of guys who've flipped me off or rolled down their windows and called me names. Someday, ma'am, one of those jerks is gonna need a tow, and I'll just let 'em sit there. "
He finished hitching up Max, my usually trusty Maxima, and started winching it in. Max's electronics had reeled and died on a windy Portland hill after sundown, just past a busy, dark and dangerous curve. I was shivering by the time Max was finally up on his haunches and secured to the tow truck, while a long line of drivers honked and glared and inched past us.
...