Mike slowed the car as he neared Cutler’s Corner, named for Frank Cutler after he careened into a tree going eighty.
It had also become Mike’s favorite dumping spot for his trash. Few things enticed him more than chucking fast food wrappers out of his window as he motored past. He figured it was the least he could do after having a hand in naming it.
As he rolled down his window and readied a bag of empty beer cans, he smiled at the memory of him cutting Frank’s break lines. At least, Frank died easier than Mike’s wife had.