The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
February 26, 2005

Sprig

I was heading to Panorama Heights the other day to lend my voice to a book on tape. The book is a collection of short stories about forgotten rodeo legends. There are more than you might think Diary. At any rate, I was changing lanes when three crates fell from the restuarant supply truck in front of me. I did my best to maneuver, but alas I hit one. For a moment it sounded like wild animals fighting under the car. A mile or so passed, and soon the Rover smelled like a wonderful dream. When I turned on the heat it was even more magical. I couldn't help sniffing the vents as I drove. At the studio, I looked under the Rover and it turns out that I ran over a case of fresh cilantro. Either way, I wanted to tell Alphonse about the experience, but I don't think he'd take it the right way. I drove around the rest of the day with no real destination, after all the Rover may never smell that good again.