A good place for someone I know, I thought, as we went driving through. Lots of cheap housing, plenty of meth and cantaloupes, and when you get old, you can motor back and forth across the street in your electric wheelchair until you’re run down by a teenaged idiot in a big 4WD talking on a cell phone. (Not to detract one iota from the dignity and spirit of this fine gentleman, who’s lucky as goddamn hell not to be locked away in an old folk’s jail.) I get all goose-bumpy and snurfy just thinking about it. The stupid country music videos in the steakhouse in Nebraska that night, not so much.