I woke up in Maryland where the fog hung low and the trees looked like creatures sprung from Tim Burton's imagination. I woke up in New Jersey and saw a sign for a truck stop which sold trucks. We passed a billboard in Pennsylvania which read "Hell Is Real" across the freeway from a yellow and black Adult Shop sign.
You come to find things out about yourself when you drive for seven hours straight in a car of sleeping people - like that you really want a motorcycle -.
Our ride to New York was a musician (his fingernails gave him away). He also lives by Fight Club and even let me hit him... on the condition that he could hit me back! I really respect this; I get so sick of being told by males that they won't hit me out of respect or some crap, when it's actually completely sexist!
I ate so much gas station crap that it made me sick, but I made two new friends! We all ate crap food and sang Bohemian Rhapsody as we rolled along North.
Clinton (driver) and Richard (passenger) dropped us off along some railroad tracks in New Jersey (where I'm pretty sure we saw Puff Daddy) and we jumped a train into the city.
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