Pittsburgh. Washington D.C. Richmond.
Pgh. DC. RVA.
The Interstates with odd numbers go North-South. The Interstates with even numbers go East-West.
279, 79, 70, 70/76, 70, 270, 495, 95.
327 cigarettes for the year, none on this trip, none in a long time.
On the third trip to Bloomington (East) we left early. It was the Friday after the breakup, the first Friday of that September, it was cold out, American Idiot thumped thru the speakers and the sun was yet to rise. It snuck up sometime before Exit 31 on I-70 West where we got off and found a Sheetz. The sweatpants were blue and the hoodie was Ferret. A pack of Camel Silvers, Please.
This is so disgusting. I know. Why do we do it? I don't know. Me either.
Near 312, on College Ave, at the corner of 15th there's a place called Big Red. The brews are from all over. How about Red Stripe? Sounds good. How many can we put down before the game? Who cares; Let's go.
It's 5am on Saturday morning, the 10th. Up already? Yeah, if we leave now, we can make it to Sarah's game in Pittsburgh.
There's the sun, slow down a bit, I'm gonna pop outta the sunroof and take a shot of it. Look at it, it's a pink disc, just floating... Crap, there's a cop; We were flying.... We'll never make it to Pittsburgh on time now.
Salinger kept us company on the final leg as we wound thru the soon-to-be-orange-yellow-and-red-tipped mountains of Western Pennsylvania. It was hot but as the Pink Disc continued it's west-ward nose-dive the temperature fell with it and the heater was on before dark.
Tim called. Call him back; you should go over to his house to-night....
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