​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

The burrowing bohemian (continued)

So I drove. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of me. I asked her what was wrong. She told me she wasn't feeling well, and she must have some sort of "flu-bug."

Every thirty to sixty seconds, she quickly sat up, blip! and looked outside. She looked through the passenger-side window, blip! the rear window, blip! and the driver-side window blip!

.
After looking in all directions, she dipped back down in the seat, blip! and heaved a sigh of relief.

To anyone watching nearby, I was certain my taxi took on the appearance of a Whac-A-Mole game, played at many arcades or carnivals.

You should now have a picture in your mind of what my amusement center on wheels looked like from a distance.

The Whac-A-Mole game resumed.

Business was slow that night and I was slightly amused with my passenger's antics. The burrowing beauty was a nice distraction from the usual routine. I felt like I should have been putting quarters into a slot.

If I can only remember where I put that padded mallet.

We stopped at four or five different apartment buildings. We had no luck at finding someone to give my friend in need lodging for the night. The diva of dips and dives continued instructing me.