The '48 Studebaker was the color of canned peas.  It was parked illegally,
in front of a fire hydrant.  Nobody seemed to care.

I'd been sitting in the diner across the street, sipping coffee, smoking
Camels, for over an hour now, waiting for a human being to emerge from
somewhere and attach him or herself to the car.  I was the only customer.
Occasionally the counter man would try to make conversation by mumbling
something about the weather or the Dodgers or the Kefauver hearings.
I'd just grunt and let it drop.  My job was to watch the Studebaker.

It couldn't make up it's mind what kind of a day it was going to be.
And I can't make up my mind what kind of story this is going to be.

6 responses total.

Eliot Ness

 Travis McGee.

or maybe one of Elmore Leonard's detectives.

Sounds like a butched version of Tom's Diner

Ugh.  And other one word phrases.

Never mind all that - continue with the story!!

Why shouuld we?

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