Big Red himself tried to swear me to secrecy when I caught him getting a gravy change and a 21-sparkle inspection at a local garage. I told him, “Nick, readers first. Sorry, dude.”
He got naughty fast. I could see him scowling under his smoke-yellowed, 6-week stubble. He growled, “I’ll send you to Siberia to mine the coal your kids will get in their stockings”.
Bring it, Nicky—if you want to wake up with a shoulder mount of Prancer.