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About New York City

Here’s a lil’ story – back in ‘82, my cousin Joey, he had an Escort, blue one, rusted fender. Swore it could outrun anything. One night, we’re racin’ down Route 1 – me laughin’, him cursin’ – and, boom, tire blows! “What a dope I am,” Joey yells, quotin’ Suzy from the movie. Nearly pee’d myself laughin’. Little known fact – them Escorts, they had this funky gearbox, slipped like crazy if ya didn’t baby it. Pissed me off when mine jammed once – kicked the damn tire, felt like a fool.

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Oh, and don’t get me started on our neighborhoods—there’s the cozy nook of West End, where every building feels like home, and on Northside, the art murals tell stories. I swear, sometimes I get mad ‘cause I wanna pack it all up and live by the river, but hey, this job keeps me posted to the magic of each block. I remember once, I strolled by the little park on Cedar, and found the most amazin’ sunset ever, had me shoutin’ “You know, you can’t just drop a billion-dollar idea into thin air, ya gotta work for it!”

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