I'd filled up the gas tank and was sitting in the front seat fiddling with the GPS and ripping open a Slim Jim with my teeth because many recent road trips have turned me into a straight-up gas station primate. I now have a favorite brand of beef stick because I'm eating so, so many of them in the car. Or is it a pepperoni stick? I don't know. I fear the ingredient list and refuse to read it but the brand is called SASQUATCH if you'd like to investigate. This is something that I don't do at home where I'm drawn more to things like avocados and green peppers. Seriously, though, eating an avocado while driving? I would have to ask that it be pitted, stuffed with beeferoni, and sheathed in plastic before I'd even consider it.
I heard a voice call out, "Miss, you forgot your fuel cap." I opened the door, leaned out to look back and sure enough, the cap was dangling. I got out and started to screw the cap back on but didn't see anyone around. "Who said that?" I asked. A man poked his out from behind a column and smiled. "Welcome to Tennessee," he added. I realized he was looking at the California plates on the car. "Thanks," I said. "I'm just moving here and like it so far."
"Everyone who comes here from California does," he drawled.