East Jesus Nowhere

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Mary was driving, I was DJing and then sleeping. I had a dream in which somebody familiar (Vittorio? James? Dmitry?) asked me about my American adventures and I had nothing to report.
When I woke up the car broke down. We reported it to Alamo and are currently waiting for replacement in Worthington, Minnesota on a rather shady parking lot of a rather shady place called Pizza Ranch. It’s raining. We’re laughing. Alamo’s asking us to wait on the line and listen to John Denver sing about North Carolina.
A nice guy called Tony delivered an asphalt-black Chevy Cruze to replace our deceased white one. We told him we were heading to Badlands. In a Gandalf voice he warned us that the storm was coming. We never expected anything else.


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