One closed road. Six guys. Seven blocks to the bar. Numerous cans a beer. That spells trouble. Or just a fun, summer night for us. Ike did a stellar job at setting up the auto-timer. Cody is either feeling tipsy, trying to get closer to me, or just making sure he's in the shot. You decide. By the way, all of us wearing khakis cargo shorts was just a coincidence.
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