Chapter Twenty-SevenThe cacophonic blast of a motorcycle revving its engine woke me out of a deep sleep. I looked over at the travel alarm clock that I used for everything but traveling. It read 4:33 am. Jesus. That meant I'd been asleep for all of an hour. The gangs were dragging up Nottawasaga road again. Couldn't they just give it a rest like those of us who don't sleep in leather? Those people had a strange orientation in relation to time. Wasn't it supposed to be the early hours when they slept off the soddening effects of the nightly beer and booze fest? They had no business turning up now, early on a Monday morning but there they were and here was I; awake before dawn and little chance of drifting off again. Bad habit. Once awoken, my brain automatically plugged itself in and began
