Rock's tiny one-room house shook from an explosive collision. It sounded and felt as if it came from a block or so away, and as Rock walked toward his back door to investigate, someone knocked loudly.
Rock opened the door to see a middle-aged, overweight man who had attended a handful of Little Rock Hash runs ten to fifteen years earlier.
"Hey, man," Rock said. "You're Rick, right?"
"That's right, Rock. It's good to see you."
"Same here. Did you hear that noise?"
"As a matter of fact, I just ran my truck into a house back there," Rick said as he pointed toward a row of houses obscured by sheds and garages along the alley that ran past Rock's back door.
He later explained he had rented the main house of the property Rock had shared with several people over the proceeding ten years.
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