Steph

There was a large group of Hashers, several with spouses and children, gathered at a banquet hall near Rock's maternal grandmother's house in Nashville. Plentiful food and drink were scattered about on long tables covered with white paper table cloths. As Rock walked in, he saw his blonde-headed friend Steph talking with B.J., a long-time Hash leader he had known and admired for nearly thirty years.
This facility was new to Rock, as was a large, old, stereotypically cluttered general store on the opposite side of North 4th Street, Nashville's second-most trafficky thoroughfare that runs from the WalMart Super Center on the south side of town to the high school on the north.
Rock thought he had good news for Steph. As he approached her and B.J., he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Hey, kiddo, guess what," he said. "I got the Wisconsin game on my radio. We can just exchange cars for the day if you want."
She eagerly took his keys and, within seconds, was in Rock's car. As he explained to several Hashers about the Wisconsin game, they watched as Steph drove the car into the general store parking lot. None of them could figure out why its hood was up or how she could see to find a place to park.
"I forgot to tell her about the weird noise it makes," Rock said. "It's probably got her freaked out."