Leaving Yreka

The bus driver left Yreka without her dog and we missed our turn off to Eureka. We drove almost all the way to Bend before she noticed. We drove back over the Siskiyous for the dog. She said her husband cheats at cards. I wonder what else.

"Can I ask you something? Are there any cheap hotels around here?" We're leaving Eugene. She gives us the Heartbreak Hotel.

The girl from New York who has a husband she isn't traveling with, has creamy white thighs. Thighs that have seen little sunlight. She must not be acclimatized to California sun worship, sun and skin the color of dry summer grasses, the rolling golden hills of California, as Kate sang.

Michael only reads bits of books, other people's books. As they depart with their books and luggage in tow, he borrows another book from someone else. He never finishes a story. How does he hold all those loose storylines in his head? How does he resolve them? It would drive me crazy. Most of the people on the bus have books spanning the great body of literature, it's like a bookmobile. A few chapters of Anna Karenina, followed by The Sun Also Rises, and Catcher in the Rye.

I've driven to Seattle enough times that I've seen the scenery. This time I'm going up north lying flat on my back the whole way. There are no seats! Some woman said the last time she rode the bus down from Seattle, she was making out with the guy the entire trip, she hoped she never see him again. Another woman, hearing her story, decided she liked the idea, and rode the bus up and back in the hopes of meeting someone.