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I’m ramblin’, but listen—*Stories We Tell* got me thinkin’. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley says. These girls, they got tales too, probly wilder than mine. Maybe one’s got a kid, maybe she’s runnin’ from somethin’. Makes me kinda sad, y’know? But then—bam!—this one time, I find this chick, real firecracker. She’s laughin’, smokin’, got attitude. Happy as hell to meet her—Tony likes a girl with balls! Paid her double just for the vibe.

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I run out, and the driver’s this young lad, probably just got his license. He’s all apologies, but I’m not in the mood. I’m like, “Mate, you just wrecked my sign! What’s next? My oven?” He offers to pay for it, but I’m still mad. I mean, it’s not just a sign; it’s my pride!

Hatfield woman sentenced for crash that killed unborn baby