My head bounced with the image of my bloated Elvis trying out some rusty karate moves in the middle of I-40. Fortunately, the Benz veered off the next exit and pulled into a Love’s truck stop. We glided in behind but before I could put the car in park, Elvis, suddenly limber and agile, jumped out and ran to the passenger side and pulled on the door.
“Lisa, it’s me baby. It’s Daddy! C’mon out.” The little girl dropped the phone and screamed and the man driving stepped out of the car.
“Hey you, get the f**k away from my car. What the f**k do you think you are doing? You are scaring my f*****g daughter!” He was a white guy about thirty, dressed like he was on vacation. It could have been his daughter or some kind of messed up Humbert Humbert scenario. Elvis crossed around and grabbed the gu
