I let my monkey ride with me in the truck. Last week
(like the week before) we went to New England, and back, via I-85, I-95, I-495, Hwys 50, 301, 896, 13, Jersey Turnpike, Cross Bronx Expressway, and on up into Central MA. We stopped in Philly to wash-out and reload on the way home.
My monkey likes to sit in the floor and look out of the little blind spot window watching traffic as the
miles (and smiles) go by.
Finally, after a couple of days, I asked the little monkey, "hey, monkey... what cha' lookin' at for so long."
After a long pause, my monkey says....
(scroll down to find out what monkey says) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
I asked him if he was referring to yankees in general, or, just the ones that like to ride in the blind spot and watch the wheels go 'round. No reply.
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