A blurring of interstate miles; white line fever. We missed the good coffee in the Duke City by ten minutes, past nine at night, and didn’t find it again really until tomorrow morning in Hattiesburg, at the Equinox.

In between as insulating fill, there is organic single origin in the truck stops now, but overall the consensus is that we miss the plague year, when all the motels were empty instead of crammed full, and you never had to wait in line at a gas station neither.

America is kicking and screaming to get back to hellish normal, and that’s a shame, for those of us who prefer to live slower and more lonesome.

They say inflation is next. Joy. But we’ve cashed the hell out. It won’t always be this bad, and there is family at the end of the long road crowded with fools.