We stopped at a store on a reservation that advertised cheap, cheap cigarettes. They were giving out free samples of a brand called Vegas.
Jon is driving now. We are listening to REM's Reckoning. Loren put on Jon's silk shirt and acted like Morrissey. I took pictures.
Loren had to take a break from driving because he swore one of the cars of a passing train held "those lizards from Star Wars."
We've just crossed the New Mexico state line. Jon got grossed out because he saw some man taking a whiz on the side of the road. We wonder about the speed limit. Jon points out that I haven't slept in ages. I'm too excited and stimulated to sleep. Besides, I can't drive anyhow.
Jon shows me his Harley-Davidson cigarettes that he bought at the reservation.
"They taste like Harley-Davidson tire," John says. I'm sold and try one. Loren is engrossed in reading Jon's Anne Rice book.
...
Jon asks us to let him pick up a hitchhiker.
"He looks like he just got out of jail. He needs our help!"
...
Jon tells me how to make truckers honk their horns. I don't believe truckers will honk their horns simply because a passenger in a car makes a similar gesture. Jon urges me to try it. I'm curious, yet apprehensive. I've seen Duel before.
We pull off Route 66 to get gas. Jon pulls up to a station with ancient pumps. By now we've passed Gallup and the Continental Divide.
...
Jon sings along with Siouxsie and the Banshees. Thank god this is the last song. I put in Swans next. We see a large truck flipped over onto its side.
Jon says, "You are entering the Valley of Albuquerque... Flash Gordon approaching."
Neither of us can figure out why he said that but it has a nice ring. 40 miles to Albuquerque. What a dull stretch of road.
...
Jon talks about seeing Abraham Lincoln's face in the mountains. He complains about a lowered Chevrolet truck that passes us on the road. Jon then tells me and Loren a dubious story about his conception. [Note: Unfortunately, I never wrote down the story itself!]
...
Jon tempts me to hit him with a Gatorade bottle. The bags under his eyes could carry a week's worth of laundry.
"New Mexico has roads named after beer. I like that," Jon says, referring to an exit for Coors Avenue.
