CHAPTER THREE: Back to Kansas, Without a Second to Lose

The road beckoned once again, that and the fact that we were living in rubbish with vermin, any who we got back on track but headed into our greatest downfall.

Stuckey’s was a Texico with it’s own built in Dairy Queen right off a deserted stretch of highway 80. Even the animal’s stared at us there. As we enjoyed our Blizzards inside, outside, unbeknownst to us gremlins were making out like bandits with our transmission for when we got back into “ol’torre” (that’s what I named the Torrus. Not really then but now that I am typing this up) shifting was a thing of the past. It squealed loudly over the music and failed to slip past the first gear. Goddamn. We stopped off on exit 35, a ghost town. I can’t even exaggerate this one. I think it was the most remote and desolate spot I’ve seen if you don’t count all the Sideswipe shows. Goddamn, again.

A tow truck was more than happy to drive us to the nearest town, Topeka about thirty minutes back from whence we came. And that’s when the fun really started. Goddamn.