Wednesday wants to know...

..when did this week become a car crash? A slow-rolling, unavoidable crash?

I suppose the better question, really, is not when but how? Be that as it may, it's upon us, and needs to be met like virginal sex: straight on, with little foreplay, and much trepidation.

 Any chance I can get to post this picture, I will...

Speaking of crashes, let the inimitable Patricia Day tell you about cars, and a particular stretch of Highway 55, where the ladies go to disappear, in more ways than one...

Lyrics go now...

On Highway 55,
Six feet under,
Where no one can find her,
By Milestone 91,
A few feet from the road,
The desert running through her,

Lucille was a pretty girl,
A little Nevada pearl,
Black hair framing her face,
A little quirky on the world,
Liked Las Vegas City Lights,
Liked to sit up all night,
Needed a little rest on the bench,
And thats where, he found her,

On Highway 55,
Six feet under,
Where no one can find her,
By Milestone 91,
A few feet from the road,
The desert running through her,

In her little summer dress,
She was put to rest,
Where the sand blows hard,
Under distant stars,
Pale hand lays above ground,
Beauty to be found,
So many lives pass by,
Never seeing Lucille,

On Highway 55,
Six feet under,
Where no one can find her,
By Milestone 91,
A few feet from the road,
The desert running through her,

By red tail lights
He dug her down,
And the sand rushed,
Over sweet Lucille's chest,
In the pale moon light,
Still a pretty sight,
Lucille,
Lucille,
Oh; Lucille

On Highway 55,
Six feet under,
Where no one can find her,
By Milestone 91,
A few feet from the road,
The desert running through her,

By red tail lights,
He dug her down,
Lucille,
Lucille,
Oh; Lucille

On Highway 55,
Six feet under,
Where no one can find her,
By milestone 91,
A few feet from the road,
The desert running through her,

Oh; Lucille.