4
GONE SHOOTING
We came walking out in the bright sunlight of the hot summer afternoon shoulder to shoulder, my gorilla lookalike partner and myself, with both of us reaching for our sunglasses at the same time. It was August. It was hot. And the damn sun was gawdawful bright.
Slipping behind the wheel of the white '83 Chevy Z-28 convertible, I kicked the 350cu. in. V8 into life and slid the gearshift up into first just as Frank hit the play button on the disc and dialed up AC/DC's Gone Shootin'. With the six speakers of the expensive stereo working just fine, and with the top down on the convertible, I'm sure we rolled out of the back parking lot of the South Side Precinct entertaining anyone in the building who had a window open.
Up front, the engine rumbled and growled like it was s
