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Show Woodworth/^5 "Well, we aren't going to the country club." Rachael is on her feet. "In fact, you may be the only country club kid there." "Where are we going?" "There's a place in Kenmore Square. I think it's called the Bowladrome." "Good name for it." The drive there makes Marty dizzy and car sick. The landmarks she uses to maneuver around the city seem different, 6K.os^r\ ar\c* oW^ -, allowing only the indifferent shine of crime lights. Driving when stoned scares her. There is no cnntrol, and an instant death waits at every corner, threatens from every automobile. The crunch of metal on metal, the jarring in the legs, the feeling of her head against the windshield. It was an accident. It all seems so real to her that she is sweating by the time they have parked the car and are walking towards the bowling alley, "Bowladrome" greeting them in pink neon lights. "God, I hate driving when I'm stoned." "You should of said something. I would of driven." "Yeah. 'Well." They both remember Ruth about Rachael driving. Not insured. Irresponsible. And the night when Marty had asked to borrow Ruth's car to go visit Rachael, and her mother had said no, it was time for Marty to grow up and stop hanging around with sluts and kikes. "Your mother might find Jew germs on the steering wheel." "You think they could convert her?" "I don't think anything could convert her. Or Ned for that matter. Christ, they probably have WASP stitched on their underwear." "No, it says 'Pucci'. I already checked." The bowling alley is a sleek wood cavern, balls and falling |