Barry Munz was not a man of his time. Or rather, he was a man of his time, but only if "his time" referred to the few months in the late 80s between buying his first car and getting dumped by his second girlfriend.

  Only his car remained, like a giant scrapbook that the good old days had signed in the back with a big "Keep in Touch" in the form of rust, dents, scrapes, and bruises. It was the one thing in his life he could still call his own, and true to form, he wrecked it.