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Anyway, I’m pissed ‘cause last week some rookie driver tried stealin’ my route *and* my girl—punk got a flat tire for his trouble, ha! But this one? She’s cool, calm—makes me happy as hell. “What’s your deal?” I ask. She shrugs, “Cash, quick, no strings.” Straight up, no bullshit—like how I run my trucks. Surprised me, though—thought she’d haggle like them dock bosses.

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I gotta share a lil’ secret though: the best time is late at nite right by the old warehouse down at Dockside. Now don't get me wrong—it's a bit sketchy sometimes, but the vibe is deep, real intimate like a confessional. Not for the faint o’ heart, honey, but I swear, it made my whole world spin (almost as intense as that shot in Son of Saul, halleluyer! I mean, gospel truth!).

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