When I was 17 I got my first car to get to and from gigs, and such. It was a huge deal...and I was sooooo bleeding cool, you know?
So anyway, I had to stay mates with him, because his older sister was a *stunningly* attractive lass, and she used to like to tag along with us on cruise nights. This was most agreeable with me, because you see, it meant she sat in the middle between us two chaps...but it also meant she was perfectly positioned to control the cassette player....then things got ugly...because though she was unquestionably beautiful in every respect, her taste in music was not. She would always play this bleeding Air Supply "best of" album she had...and would sing along to the...um...tunes, I guess they were.
Blimey...as much as I wanted to rip that tape out and throw into oncoming traffic, I would lose my resolve every time I looked into that exotic face of hers...it was hopeless.
One night we again set off, and once again, she loaded this flaming tape into the player. Only this time it promptly became tangled in the machine. Feigning genuine concern, I pulled over, and after 10 minutes of futzing round, was able to extract a badly mangled cassette...completely ruined and utterly unplayable.
I was euphoric.....
for about 60 seconds...
then my joy turned into mourning...
We had barely got back into traffic again when she casually reached into her handbag and withdrew a brand new, still wrapped in cellofane, identical tape to the one that got destroyed, and triumphantly inserted it into the deck....
"Heeerrrre I yaaamm...the wun that chooooo luuuv....!"

