Fallout (Crank 3)

myself. Splitting the whole

of me into halves. Pushing

myself beyond OCD and panic

attacks, all the way to the realm

of probable schizophrenia.

I’m not two people. Only one,

uncertain. One, scared of the gray

space of tomorrow. But a lot more

scared of being stuck in yesterday.

WE ROLL INTO BISHOP

A small California town also reaching

desperately for the future. Maybe

this is where I should move.

Trey decides to stop at Schat’s

Bakkerÿ. This place is famous. Can’t go

through Bishop and not stop here.

Famous? Never heard of it. But,

“I guess I could eat.” And I could

definitely pee. Not a lot of places

to stop along 395. If nothing else,

almost six hours since leaving our

overnight layover in Indio, it feels

great to stretch my legs. We go inside,

order sandwiches, and by the time

I get back from the bathroom,

Trey has collected them and stands

talking to a couple of locals. He sees

me, excuses himself to join me.

Those guys just got in from Reno.

Guess it’s snowing pretty good up