The only tow-truck talking experience I ever had was when I was 24 years old. It took less than three minutes for the driver to show me his Jesus. I was stuck in that cab for fifteen minutes listening to him try to bring me to the light.
Sorry to hear about the sucker punches. The term "sucker punch" always makes me think of someone dissolving a bunch of lollipops into a big party punch bowl. We can spike it with rum if you want.
If Yolo dies maybe you should have him cremated. In the desert.
Jesus people can be really annoying. It's infuriating to me how they think they're somehow helping when they come at me with their heaven and hell bullshit. But that's the nature of brainwashing I guess.
I've put serious thought into scraping Yolo's VIN, pulling the plates, and setting him on fire way out in the woods somewhere. The desert is probably a better idea though because there'd be less risk of burning down a national forest. I know some incredibly remote and desolate spots in Utah. Maybe I will mix up a big bucket of spiked sucker punch for the occasion.
And then bike home.
Nah, I'll just walk. Utah isn't that far away from Colorado.
You'll probably be running, though, once @otherbrandt finds out that you littered with his own car.
@otherbrandt will never know.