Chris, my bowling partner, works at the bowling alley (by the way, he kills me both games ... I never break 80), so I am able to talk him into taking me to "the back."  I've always wanted to go back and watch the machines work ...

 

 

Look, bumpers!

 

My adventures are winding down, so I have Jim call a cab for me.  I asked for transportation this evening, as I have done enough driving on bad roads, plus Paul's Motel never bothered to plow the 6 inches of snow out of their parking lot.  And I love my new car.

 

Cab is called.  I must kill time.  I put a quarter in a gumball machine and get a tattoo, which I decide belongs on Jim.

 

Eric, entrusted with paying the cab driver for me, tries to win me a stuffed animal.  I hope that's not my cab fare.

 

Finally, I just get comfortable.  Sure enough, the cab now arrives.

 

The back of my cab driver's head.

 

And Sunday morning, as I leave my motel, the parking lot is still not plowed!  Ack!

 

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