On Friday night, after seeing Kill Bill 2, my interstate ramp was closed, so I took a detour that routed me past Re-Bar. As I was stopped at a light, a youngish (25, maybe) guy with bleached platinum hair approached my car as if it was a sentient being he wished to communicate with. He tapped on the window, and as I rolled it down, his first words to me were:
"Please bring this car to Burning Man".
I told him I was indeed planning to go this year, but had yet to decide if I wanted to scrub playa dust out of the 496 holes (or "negative spaces", if you prefer) of the diskettes. Hmm, good point, he said. I drove home, sorta flattered, and sorta amused at the way he phrased it- sort of a "admit one artcar + guest" type of invitation. heh.