Marty was a punk rocker he went to all the shows patches on Swiss Army pants and two rings in his nose he had an old Nash Rambler no insurance, not much gas and a dancing hula girl that bobbled on the dash feeling kind of stupid one day he broke down he drove his ugly car to the edge of town he sunk it in the quarry just because he could and 'cause the rear defroster never worked too good Marty where you going whatcha going to? what's the point in not conforming if it changes you? when this world runs out of answers would you even know? does the truth have any bearing on which way you go? he took the bus to Santa Cruz he hitchhiked to L.A. a preacherman had picked him up and drove him half the way he said "there's two kinds of people that i've met those who ask the questions and those who don't ask questions yet" then he turned, asking Marty which one that he thought he was Marty shrgged and shook his head forgetting what the question was you'd do almost anything someone told you not to do just because someone else told you it was cool remember long ago, someone said to get a life? did you ever think they might be right? Marty was a rebel, he never had a cause it may be stupid and cliche but that's because he was he spent his whole life straying from the norm he was neither hot or cold just boring and lukewarm it didn't seem to bother him he didn't seem to mind his cathartic life