Frequency: Purple Passion--Mexico Petersen

  
   "Frequency:  Purple Passion--Mexico Petersen"
   
   Petersen adored the Purple Passion, spilling it on a sofa in the mid-80's.  My last Blog stunk, metaphorically.  Can't find an adjective thingamajig for ARITHMETIC--still, nope.
   If only a Boss 302, any year--were to materialize.  Holy Heaven, wouldn't even need anything but an automatic.  Rednecks used to tell me, in the day:  "Shit, that's an automatic--ain't shit."
   But grabbing a second in an auto-powered 8-cylinder is sophisticated redneck.  Monza--4-cylinder; however, armed with Holland's V-8 transmission--no shit, could scratch a third.
   STOP sign.  STOP, an acronym for:  Scratch Tires On Pavement.
   Boy--it was Arkansas.  What the hell else does an adolescent have?  And I say:  "Jesus drives a muscle car."  You know what I mean . . .