I have come to a decision.
I need to work on me.
It will be part of my reinventing a hipper Drew project, and it has to begin with me working on me.
I am going to stop saying things that bother people.
I am going to start by never saying anything when my wife is driving the car. I no longer care if we're supposedly headed to Los Angeles but end up in Tucumcari, New Mexico.
Because I need to work on me.
I like New Mexico, anyway. More than Arizona.
Last time I was in Arizona, I almost got into a fight at a cowboy bar.
I used to enjoy fighting.
But not any more.
Because I am working on me.
I was once a boxer. Go ahead, ask my friend Mike -- the guy who made me ride in the backseat of his car next to a life-sized metal statue of Don Quixote, all through Mexico.
When I think of that road trip, you know what I think of?
Not pissing off Mike by telling him which lane to be in.
That, and tequila.
There are no lanes in Mexico, anyway.
Yeah. I need to work on me.
I have never been knocked out, but I did knock a guy out one time.
Mike was there. He'll tell you.
I landed a sweet right straight into the guy's temple. He was about 3 inches taller and had all kinds of reach on me, but his eyes rolled back, his chin pointed up, and he was flat on his back in less than a second.
I never saw the guy after that.
Because me and Mike ran away after we took his wallet.
Then we hid his wheelchair in a dumpster.
I really need to start working on me.
It begins today.
