As I rode the country highway on that brisk winter day in 1974, I couldn't help but notice our speed, which was about 20 mph. 

"You know, it's just as dangerous to drive too slowly, as too fast." 

"Did you say something?" 

The car was a used one, a 1969 tan Ford Fairlane with a large red star stenciled on the driver side door. Several windows were missing. Blankets covered these gaping holes and flapped in the wind. We were beginning to feel a little conspicuous. The situation had started earlier in the day when we'd smoked a joint. We were now on an adventure and in the process could have been considered a public menace. 

Still handling the road with great caution and precision, my friend continued to drive. We stopped at a store advertising Gas, Groceries, Liquor & Ammo. We needed only food. 

I searched for money by dumping the contents of my purse onto the car seat. Out of it fell an apple, a book, pliers, and unimaginable unidentified objects (UUOs) of all kinds, but no cash. 

"Do you smell something burning?" 

We then noticed a tiny hole in the car seat upholstery, from which a thin plume of smoke drifted. A burning marijuana seed was embedded in the seat stuffing, slowly burning its way to the floorboard. 

Our blood sugar was plummeting and our mirth was rising. Our plight suddenly seemed unintentionally and hilariously funny. We were sitting in a strange looking semi-blanketed car, which was filling with smoke. We had little food and no money. As we collapsed with laughter, the store proprietor suddenly appeared in the parking lot and yanked open the passenger door, giving us a fright. Fortunately, I didn't fall out onto the pavement. 

"Well, ya got fruit, fire, and everything in there, doncha?" He had a way with words. His statement only intensified our near-hysteria. 

After extinquishing the fire with Coca Cola and wolfing down Cheetos that we found under the car seat, we headed towards home. 

"Hey! Aren't you driving awfully slowly?" 

"What? Did you say something?"