OK so I want you to imagine a hurricane in a long canyon, Peterās screaming and the sunroof is open, all the windows are down, and the little bit of hair on his forehead, the bit he lets grow long, is flying like floss. He reaches down and twists the dial and inexplicably, infuriatingly, āThis Loveā leaps from the speakers. There are beer cans rolling around at my feet. Some of them are empty and some of them are full, but theyāre all rolling, Adam Levine is too loud, and all I can think is holy shit I am going to die in this fucking Camaro and this is it, it really is it.
āMaybe you should slow down!ā I yell, but itās nothing, itās to no avail. The trees fly by like slats in a prison, the car lurches onward, and weāre falling down a deep, dark well with no bottom.