Looking back i suppose i shouldn't have been surprised to find myself crouched on the side of a highway between Elko and Wendover, Nevada, snorting an unidentified white powder off a dingy mirror through a cut-off McDonaldland straw with two villains from Beyond Thunderdome...  lights from oncoming traffic illuminating this accident waiting to happen, every few seconds like a metronome, Big Rigs and RV's speed by, headed toward Harrisburg and Scranton and points east... teetering on the edge of nowhere, heels glued to asphalt still hot from the days sun, toes in loose gravel barely balancing on the solid line crudely separating truck and cow.  As another volley of Big Rigs and RVs race by i gaze up at Brenda in her tight acid-washed Wranglers, matching jacket and little else of note.  i take another slug from my beer, the words "America's Finest..." appear before my eyes briefly as a car passes...  i bury my head in the mirror, noticing Jack peering over Brenda's shoulder.  He mumbles something about "i'm already helping the sonofabitch motherfucker out and i don't need him to be... blah blah blah."  Jack happened to be one crazy motherfucker that i was glad to hook up with tonight...