At mile marker 682, Cameron stops obsessing over the engine temperature gauge. It worked. He really fixed it. The camper is not going to blow up in the middle of the interstate.
At exit 747, he lets out a juvenile chuckle. The town of Weed! He puts his flashers on and pulls to the shoulder, intending to snap a pic of the sign to send to Brad. Because Weed, California, is never not funny. But his phone’s not in its usual place in the cup holder. Weird. Did he leave it in the back of the camper, maybe? He keeps driving.
At mile marker 780, he realizes why he couldn’t find his phone. He left it on the front bumper, right where it was when he was changing the belt. He can practically see it sitting there. Which means, by now, it’s an expensive piece of roadkill. He lets out a wild laugh. He hasn’t slept in almost thirty hours.
At a truck stop somewhere in the Rogue River Valley, he makes the smart decision to park and take a six-hour nap. When he wakes, he splashes his face with cold water in the public restroom and buys a black coffee, to go, from the diner. On his way out, he tosses a mostly full pack of cigarettes in the trash.
At or around exits 119, 142, and 238, he dwells on his idiotic resignation note. At exit 295, he starts composing an apology in his head.
At a bridge crossing the Columbia River, he reenters Washington state. Northbound, of course—he’s been going
north. Going back to do things the right way.
