I managed to find a rundown apartment on the Southside of town. Now, I’m on the hunt for a job. I’ve got about three thousand bucks in my pocket, but it won’t last long. When I rolled through town earlier, a bar on the outskirts grabbed my attention immediately and I’ve decided to see if they’re hiring. When I pull in front of the bar, the name appears in dripping red letters, The Slab. What a weird name for a bar. The outside of the steel building looks rough, however there are ten or so classic cars and tons of motorcycles parked in front of the building. Yep, this is my kind of place! I seem to fit in with the rougher crowd and can usually handle what bikers and gear heads typically dish out. I pull my car in the back next to another Chevelle and envy how nice it looks. Mine still has rust on the bottom and the motor could use some work. I have yet to find a good body shop to fix it because, for one, I need money; and two, I need to stay at a place more than a few months.
