The Mitchlin Tire guy lit up in yellow lurks about in the hood. Crawling up onto the roof of your 2 million dollar L.A. mini mansion with skylight ceilings. The thing peers down at you while you sleep, dreaming about how many people you are going to fuck over at work, and about how you will be able to sneak about and maintain three separate affairs that you having with different secretaries at the office behind your wife’s back.