(Place on page 53, after para. 5 ' torn up inside)
On my last day riding the Penn van, on a dark and blustery February night, we approached my stop at King of Prussia. I said so long to Pat. He wished me luck as we shook hands. For the first time in six months, George not only looked at me , he spoke.
"I'm sorry, kid," he yelled from the back of the van. "I've quit many times before. I guess that's why I'm in this situation. I'll probably quit again. At least you are smart enough to quit when you know you can't cut it."
The sorry bastard! I felt bad enough about quitting without this guy rubbing it in. I bit my tongue since we stopped and I saw Mom through the icy window, standing outside, shivering in the cold.
Pat saw how red my face was. He leaned over and whispered, "I'll kick his ass for you the first chance I get. Good luck, man"
DELETE IN GOOD COPY..PAGE 56
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