The truck was a bit old and it swayed in a funny way here and there when you gave it some gas because it has an extended bed with 30+ years of carrying heavy loads, yet seemed reliable and safe to drive. The interior of the truck was huge and the cab always had a sweet smell to it.
The supersonic sound from the projectiles and the overpressure of the M16 muzzle flash was just as entertaining as a 4th of July firework display. Somehow I had front row seat to the show as I found myself standing a couple yards away from member of the Mexican PGR.
A mile-walk at night time in my city was straight out of a scene in The Warriors movie. Luckily for me, my fast-learned street diplomacy and knowing when-and-where to name-drop my classmates names was my passport as I entered and exited several gang borderlines with my backpack and skateboard on hand.
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