Luke Duke climbed out of the General Lee, his usually merry, blue eyes flashing with anger. Sure, the dirty, gray Ford behind him and Bo had only lightly tapped the General's back bumper.
The owner's face, though, was flushed red with anger and that was unfair, since the accident was his fault. It amazed and angered Luke how often other people hit the General Lee.
How hard was it to notice a bright orange car with a one on its side and a flag on top?
Getting a good look at the Ford's driver, Luke made an effort to control his temper. The stranger was an older man, with sagging skin and a sallow complexion.
His unkempt hair was a solid, iron gray and, though handsome, deep lines gave his face a haggard look.
He was fairly tall, with a build that suggested the stranger had once been hard and strong. Now, he sagged and slouched. His brown eyes were sharp, but watery.
The stranger was wearing a pair of ragged jeans and a loose, flannel shirt. The only thing on him that was new or well-kept were the running shoes on his feet.
He glared at Luke, stopping less than a foot away from him.
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