Not the kind of story I would usually read, there not being any spaceships involved, but I liked it enough to finish.
The author is also mildly well known for having a baby in a taxi in Times Square. That is, giving birth in a taxi. In Times Square. New York City.
Wouldn't've (pg. 116) -- I said that, but I have never seen it in print before.
"Jesus, Willy, there's a hole in my glass. It's empty" -- pg. 389
In the distance he could hear the stuttering of Mr. Vandestar's Hudson...Jack knew the car's problem was in the master cylinder; he could tell by listening to it. (pg. 5) -- Which cylinder is the master cylinder? Are all the rest slave cylinders?