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Jake elbowed Mort in the arm. Mort woke up, roused from a deep sleep. “What?” he said.
“He’s gone for another piss,” said Jake. “I swear, that guy has to pee every half an hour.”
“It’s what happens to old guys,” said Mort. He looked around. They were parked at a McDonald’s just off the main highway. It looked like they were in a smallish town.
“We in Santa Cruz?” said Mort.
“No way,” said Jake. “Still a couple of hours. We should take the van.”
“No,” said Mort. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? He’s probably got insurance on it. Look, he left the keys.”
“We’re not taking this old guy’s van. He’s done nothing but help us.”
“But it’ll help him. He won’t be out anything. The insurance money will get him a newer and better van.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said
