The town, as one of its last acts, had yielded a loose spike I found on a walk back to town along the rail line that runs near the dam. In the city, as I drove through the Golden Mile parking lot, one of those huge pick-ups backed up into my path, the driver not looking my way at all. When he did, I spread my arms to say "Come on, take a look." He rolled his window down and leaned toward me: "Want me to come down there and tune you up? Fuckin old prick."
24 hours later, I'm still scrambing to regain the depth of things, what with all the errands and unpacking, and the idiots out there.
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