Sarah, where's the car? It's gone. It's not gone. It's with Fixter. Since you've never

got Ranta servicing it, I took care of it. Fixter's great! They pick up your car, drive

it to the garage, handle the service, then drive it straight back to you. Sounds expensive?

Don't worry. They negotiate their prices with their partner garages and the car pickup

services included. So since that's all handled, how about you take a look at that leaky tap

or do you need me to fix that too? For easy car maintenance, head to fixter.co.uk. We'll

pick up your car and take care of all the rest. Fixter and your back on track.

In high school, we learn that stories have a beginning, middle and end.

Our teachers told us that the end of a story has a resolution, a lesson that can be learned

or a meaning that can be analysed. This isn't one of those stories. This is just a few hours

from a single night in the life of my high school friends and I. A night when we bond into something

that I still don't understand and probably never will. Driving through rural America,

you will see a lot of buildings that don't seem to have a purpose. Surrounded by dead fields

or gravel parking lots, they just blend into the landscape. The structures themselves are

nothing special. Concrete silos, corrugated warehouses, boat brick buildings painted white.

They seem abandoned. No one goes in or out, but the structures remain like a riddle with

that to answer. September of my senior year, my friends and I decided to throw an impromptu

party in one of those buildings. There were only three of us, but we had a stereo,

some glow sticks and a video camera. All we needed was booze and a way in.

Ryan, who was probably the oddest member of our little trio, showed up with some bolt cutters.

While he had them, I still have no idea. My buddy Derek snagged a couple of six

bags from his dad's basement freezer. Derek's old man was so deep in the bottle, he just

...