So began his thankless investigations here in this dingy, littered gas station perched on the knife’s blade between road and desert, civilization and chaos, sobriety and insanity, where he quietly pumped premium deluxe gasoline into his Miata.
Would I give up my dreams for a car? I would. You can always get new dreams. But you can only run over a hobo in an unregistered vehicle once.
The joy ride was cut short as the car sped past the intersection of Darfur Avenue and SIDS Street.
