Saturday night a white Rolls-Royce stretch limo was in the right lane when I was in the left. It was a beautiful thing. Gleaming white, dark windows, spare tire cover on the trunk, emblem on the hood. You have to wonder who is inside when you see a car like that. Who could be worthy? I wanted to think it was a celebrity who'd come from a performance at the Arena, going to the airport, but it was too early in the evening. More probably some tacky couple was on their way to the Woodlands to dance and get drunk.
Some years ago I saw a creamy brown Rolls on the Harveys Lake road. The license plate had something to do with Andy Warhol, who'd already been dead a long time. I've wondered ever since who owned that car.
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