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You could hear the Q's ancient, stinking, Diesel Mercedes from hundreds of feet away. Both of the cars were fitted with an alarm to warn of a backing up car, the same sound heard when in the vicinity of a massive 983 axle heavyweight truck.
Most mornings at the school bus stop at the end of C-Lane, DQ would glide mysteriously by in his aging vehicle. As he moved slowly by the other young products of C-Lane, he'd roll down his window and mumble, "Beware the rhubarb," or, "Be careful of wooden nickels."
We were ages seven through 16, and the feeble attempt at humor was lost on us.
