Open All Night is a shot of 5-hour energy crammed into a 3-minute song. The narrator has the pedal pressed to the floor, and the lyrics rattle off, one after another. This couplet rattles of the tongue as well as any of them, but it's also a moment of calm in a song that's nothing but go. The narrator isn't "hittin' the gas" he's not "runnin' late," he's not hitting "coverin' ground." He's eating greasy food with his girl in the car.

It's a pure imagery lyric. A polaroid that would make a good postcard. A billboard advertisement for Bob's Big Boy. You can almost feel the grease on the roadmap.

The whole song is filled with alliteration, and this line is no different.
fried, front, fingers / seat, she’s, sitting, / we’re, wiping, Wanda (next line)

We know Bruce loves the car metaphor in his songs. Let's also appreciate his detailed seating charts of car interiors in his songs.

- Mama's yapping in the backseat
- Barefoot girls on the hood a dodge. (Spoiler alert! This one's on the countdown)
- Little sister's in the front seat with an ice cream cone
- Angel straddling the shifter
- Mary's in the front seat (if she accepts the invitation)

I'm sure there's some more.

That's it for this one. See you at #102.