It was dark and we could barely go a hundred in the mountains even with those wild ultraviolet headlights. Up and down hills to Kentucky. Down into a valley, a spotlight hits us from across the median; damn it, red and blue bubbles too. A scan of the radar equipment says no reading was taken of us. The new owner of this car decides it is most prudent to hammer down. We spool up the turbos and fly over the hills for many miles. Later, slowing to normalish speed, we pass a weight station. The cops don't make a move.

Booowaaaaaaghhhh

By Louisville we decide it is time for cocktails. We turn off downtown1:00am. Drive around a bit and find a likely looking nightclub. O’Malley’s on Liberty Street. We unfortunately could not flashily park in front with the important car. Inside, the place is cavernous. The first room is a piano lounge with a guy playing and singing raunchy tunes. We get beers. Beyond the door in the back is a strobe light dance club playing damn good contemporary disco. I get a dance. Further in is a live rock band with various longhairs and rock chicks mildly banging their heads. Past the door in the back is a gigantic line-dancing arena. Many people are dressed as cowboys. Um and cowgirls. I am pretty sure ranching isn't a large business in the area, but I know horseback riding is. The artist and the entrepreneur jump in the fray. Natural dancers we are.

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