It was late and I got into my car and just drove. I didn’t care where I was going, I just had to put some wear on my tires, and fast. All night I drove around town, down almost every street, and I still wanted to keep going and going.

I made a short pit stop to shove the meter up from ‘E’. I was at the point where I was starting to look at hitting the roads outside of town, too; I was about ready to shove off and drive up and down every highway and interstate from this shining sea to the other. No one would miss me for awhile.

I needed clothes, so I drove home to pack. I was heading through the underpass here – there were train tracks up above, that’s why it was here – and a tire blew, the rear driver’s side. I ground to a halt right at rock-bottom and calmly cursed my car with every oath I knew. I got out to plug in the spare.

You could say that it gave me a moment of perspective, that the cool air of the calm, lonely night, motionless around me; the soft sheaves of mist my lips cast off; the sound my tire iron made as it screwed the lugs into place all filled me up with warm fuzzy emotions for this shithole of a town. In point of fact, I’m merely a coward.