Carla: Hey, aren't you Phil, the tire distributor from Rhode Island?
Man: Look, lady, if you've got problems with your wheels, talk to your dealer.
Carla: No. I'm Carla. Remember? We went out a couple of times. It must've been years ago.
Man: I'm sorry. I don't remember.
Carla: Yeah. I guess it's been a while. You were still pushing whitewalls. Maybe this will jog your memory. Art's Hideaway Adult Motel?
Man: I'm sorry. Look, in the tire game, you meet a lot of women.
Carla: Yeah, but you can't have forgotten. Mirror on the ceiling?
Man: No.
Carla: Vibrating bed? Latin love basket? The trick with the tie?
Man: That was you?
Carla: Yeah. Oh, God, that was one steamy night, wasn't it, Phil?
Man: Oh, God, I'll say.
Carla: Yeah.
Man: Hey, look, um, I got a few hours to kill. Why don't we hit old Art's for a little reunion?
Carla: Hey, what kind of girl do you think I am?! I am a widow! Get outta here, you pig! You make me sick!