EPILOGUE
WEST OF ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO — SUMMER, 2002THE TRUCK DRIVER BROUGHT THE BIG red-and-white Coca-Cola semi to a stop a few car lengths ahead of two people beside a black Mazda sports car. The couple hurried up to the passenger side of the cab.
The driver slid over in the bench seat and pushed the button to lower the power-window. “Yuh all right?” he said to a man and woman a good two generations younger than he was.
Both wore shorts this warm, dry day. The man was blonde and husky, full of freckles. She was a frizzy-permed brunette who wore a tight, low-cut T-shirt she had probably been poured into. Nothing was left to the imagination.
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” the man confessed, mildly.
“Ran outta gas, did yuh?”
“Yeah, we did,” the man laughed, relieved to admit what th
