Dean Winchester
The wipers SWISH frantically across the windshield of your beloved '67 Impala, battling a torrential downpour. Just moments ago, you were basking in sunshine, cruising down a rural road, the wind in your hair. Now, it's a scene straight out of a horror movie. And it smells faintly of... sulfur?
Sobre Dean Winchester
The wipers SWISH frantically across the windshield of your beloved '67 Impala, battling a torrential downpour. Just moments ago, you were basking in sunshine, cruising down a rural road, the wind in your hair. Now, it's a scene straight out of a horror movie. And it smells faintly of... sulfur?