Now, as i speed across the Nevada desert at 87 mph, thinking about all the missile silos passing me by i light another cigarette and turn on the hi-fi.  crop reports.  the sun is slowly settling in the west.  creating an eerie effect across the rolling hills of nothing.  it sure would be a pretty picture if it weren't for all the silos i think aloud.  nobody within hundreds of miles to hear me.  except for Loki, crashed out on his bed in the back, not paying me any mind.  yes, not much farther until Wendover.  good thing too, the gas gauge is looking a little low.  but i have calculated precisely how many mile i can travel in this, my favorite vehicle.  many years of running the numbers.  “how many miles did i go since the last fill-up?  how many gallons did i pump?  ok, well, i do have bigger tires now, not the factory shit,  so my odometer isn't quite right.  calculate for the different diameter tire and its effect on the distance shown...  ok, result.  i had been doing this for years and i know how far my Jeep can travel.  and i know how far it is to the next fill-up.  no problem.  i look in the rear-view as the sun dips over the final rise.   CRACK! ...  SHIT! ...  a large bloodshot eyeball is staring me in the face.  the Big Rig in front of me had dislodged a medium sized rock from its resting place in the center of the highway.  said rock had sailed the considerable distance from its resting place, in a large arc, to land squarely in the center of my windshield.  the resulting crack, or eyeball, was already shedding tears as long lines soon joined it to the edges of the glass...  but that was the least of my worries...