Blondy smiles, tucking the charm into his shirt. Down on the beach the bonfire throws a lively golden glow on the sand,and speckles the breaking waves with flames. The full moon uses the bright surface of the sea for a mirror. He crushes a can and tosses it into the sand, finding the tire gauge. A couple is dancing, silhouetted against the fire. Angel baby...my Angel Baby

Blondy kneels by the vette, checking the tire pressures, deflating the rears with a pen-knife.Gotta soften em for the curves. They might blow on the straightaway, but I've gotta be leading coming out of the curve.He stands and knocks the sand from his shirt. Below him, on the beach, a saxophone wails like the only sound on Earth.