“Hey, dude. You look whipped,” a guy said as he closed the locker beside mine. “What class you got this period?”“Um ... Physics.”“Me, to.... Carlson’s an okay guy. I had him for Chemistry last year. The class is this way.” I didn’t know who the guy was, but we had the same class, so I followed him as he continued to talk. We found the classroom and settled in for the first day of school. The class was predictable. Mr. Carlson handed out the syllabus and textbooks. That was going to be a bitch to. It might have been some slight case of depression I was feeling over my failed relationship, or else it might just be that I no longer felt the need to prove myself to anyone. I don't know. Whatever it was, I found myself satisfied with just coasting along.Several times a month I would take one or two days off, during the week, and run all around New England in my Navigator, looking for bargains that I could buy up and then turn quickly for a profit. My primary motivation for doing this was. More

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