“Yeah, it’s tough getting a lift. It’s not like back in the day when your neighbor was your neighbor and you could count on him to borrow, say, a lawnmower or a maybe a cup of OxyContin. Oh, no. Now everybody keeps to themselves. So it’s nice when someone like you offers someone like me a ride, and… Whoops! There goes my latte all over the seat. Sorry about the upholstery.

“Do you like concerts? I LOVE concerts. I love buying tickets for Metallica, calculating service charges for Gloria Estefan and Incubus, and picking out my parking space at a Rascal Flatts show. Yeah, concerts rule. There’s nothing like a good… Whoops! I think some of my emergency deodorant melted and fell through the hole in my pocket. Sorry about the carpeting.

“Have you ever seen Trashcan Sinatras? How about the Woggles and Voodoo Glow Skulls? Me, I go to all the shows. Club shows, arena shows, you name the band, the place and time, and I’m there. I live for concerts. You know what I like? I like grabbing those seats right up front, standing on my chair and crowing like a rooster until the houselights dim and the place starts to rock. Yeah, I really get into concerts and… Whoops! I think some of that liquid freeze stuff I use on my toe warts just dribbled out of my lunch bag and onto your dashboard. Sorry about the radio speaker.

“I don’t know what it is with some people. They just don’t want to help out their neighbors. But you’re different. You didn’t think twice when I asked for a ride to work. But then, that’s what REAL neighbors are for. It’s like when I was at the Van Halen show last week. Heck, I politely asked the guy next to me if I could borrow his handkerchief. I had one monstrous nostril nugget stuck up my nose and I just couldn’t force it out. You know, pinch the other nostril and then blow like this? PHRRT! Whoops! Sorry about the windshield.

“You know what? We should go to a concert together. That’s right. You and me. What with us being neighbors and all. What do you say? Maybe Holly Golightly? Or how about Social Distortion or The Divine Comedy? You could drive, and I could keep you company all the way to the venue. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Neighbors to the end. How about it? After all, you drive real good, and I can hardly feel the bumps on the road. Yeah, bumps can always cause a problem. Especially when you’re terminally constipated like me and have to take as many laxatives as I do and… and… WATCH OUT FOR THAT SPEED BUMP! Whoops! Sorry about the… about the…

“Oh, forget it. You don’t want to know. Now, how about another ride to work tomorrow, eh, neighbor?”