You begin to coast, gradually slowing down, and the truck follows suit. You decide it’s safe to pull over now and you wait to hear his engine go off before getting out.
After a few minutes of waiting, you get the idea that he’s not going to show you any respect off-road either, so you step out and procrastinate the visit by stretching your limbs. Not wanting to come face-to-face with whoever it is behind the old, dusty windshield just yet, you peak around the back of the side-view mirror to see if you can make out a reflection. It’s very dark, your eyes need to adjust, but you eventually see a very old, sun-whipped and wrinkled man, almost North African or Coptic looking, with tubes coming out of the back of his head and going into the seat behind him.
“Well come on up here why dontch ya? I can sniff ya down there, ya know.” Your thoughts are closer to ‘yipe’ but you respond without much shakiness and get in on the other side.
“I was afraid I’d have to murder you out there tonight, you know that?”
You politely take it as a joke, “Yeah, heh. We were really playing bumper cars there.”
He then turns toward you with a jerk and so does the tubing, “Now where is it you’re headin’?” His ising-glass stare directed nowhere makes you think that he might actually be blind.
If you believe he might have some insight on the meaning of Lost Dakota, go to page 151.
If you’re still feeling indignant, go to page 43.
(Back to Index of Pages)