(c) 2000 by John Moncure Wetterau
in a university somewhere?" Joe asked him.
"You know Bob Dylan's line about the difference between hospitals and universities?"
"More people die in universities. Also . . . " He did a quick soft-shoe shuffle. "I drink, so be it." A trace of amusement crossed his face. Mitsuhiro, Dylan, and Mr. Bojangles; one, two, three. A silent ump pumped his right fist. Joe was gone.
"Let me buy a round," Joe said. About four beers later he got into the truck, blinking. "Jesus, Batman, Ten Mile Creek, hell of a place!" He made it to a motel and called it a day.
The next morning he had a big breakfast. The grip of the Northeast was loosening. Driving all day was beginning to seem natural. "Roll 'em, Batman," he said, "Bach first. Then, we'll move on to Gabby Pahinui, get into Willy Nelson, and The Grateful Dead. We've got a delivery for Kate." The truck was running great. Traffic was light. Ohio went by, and Indiana, like a dream.
Madison, Minneapolis, Fargo, the long run over to Missoula,