I'm filling up at the service station and some old-timer shuffles over, "Hey jr, where's your bib?" I'm like, "Bib? You're the one who needs a bib. You probably eat baby food. After naptime. Because you're a hungry cranky old man baby." He's all, "But isn't that a Porsche?"
I was impressed.
"They're supposed to have a filler bib. Gotta protect ya'neck, them long-hood fenders is expensive."
