Kenny’s truck caught on fire today. We were cruising down the freeway jamming to the Chili Peppers and out of the blue Kenny screams, “Fire!” at the top of his lungs. I turned around to see the bed of the truck going up in flames. We pull over to the shoulder and Kenny jumps out of the truck, grabs a towel, and tries to put out the fire but it made it worse. I was still stuck inside the cab with Blackie waiting for the traffic to die down so we could get out. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I didn’t go out the other side. About six people actually stopped to help us, usually people just stare and drive right by. This one guy came running up with a gallon of milk and a gallon of orange juice. It was a funny sight but it did the trick. Five minutes later the firetruck arrives and poor Blackie was so freaked out he bit one of the firemen on the leg. The guy started yelling obscenities and ran to the truck. He didn’t press charges thank God. That’s the reason Blackie went to the pound in the first place
He was a nice strapping young punk with a mohawk. Always got a story to tell with priceless expressions that keep you rolling all night. Strong mofo. From Scottish descent, 100% in fact. Man can this guy put back the booze.