Starsky opened the door to Hutch’s Ford and got in on the passenger side. Sam wagged his tail wildly, and nuzzled the back of his neck until the dark-haired man reached up a restraining hand. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you too, Big Dog,” he said sincerely.
Hutch smiled and started the engine of the car.
“What’re you grinnin’ about, Blintz?” Starsky asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you’ll forget to renew your license again.”
Starsky shot him an “if looks could kill” expression.
“Okay. Subject closed,” Hutch conceded. “I think you’ve suffered enough for that little lapse of memory. But maybe you’ll listen to me next time,” he lectured.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Hutch. Okay? Right now, all I want is to get behind the wheel of my Torino and go for a nice, long drive.”
Sam barked from the back seat. “See,” Starsky motioned toward the Rottweiler. “Sam’s been miserable ridin’ back there in that garbage pit. When ya gonna clean this mess up?”
“Now who’s lecturing?”
“Well, it’s true. This car’s a disgrace. How can ya live like this? Hutch, ya really ought’a let Merle, the Pearl, have a go at it. He could fix up the interior—give it a little class, ya know? Course, right now I’d settle for a quick rinse and vacuum at the ‘Wash & Wax’ do it yourself.”
Hutch let out a long-suffering sigh, preparing for Starsky’s monologue on the sanctity of a good set of wheels. Sam’s big paws hung over the back of the seat while he watched Starsky’s face with something akin to awe, as the dark-haired member of the duo continued his efforts to convince Hutch to renovate the traveling junk pile he called a car.
“And another thing…this bomb ain’t doin’ much for your image with the ladies…”
Sam lay his head on Hutch’s shoulder, and whined sympathetically. He too recognized Starsky’s ‘lecture’ voice and knew they were in for a long ride.
All was well.