At long last, our road trip comes to an end. We all climb into the Monte Carlo Eclipse and head home.
Now in a body cast from leaping off the balcony at the Jam Band Fest, our driver Stegz is overjoyed: “Finally, I will be able to sleep in my own bed again,” he says, “and talk on the phone.” (For this was in the days before everyone carried a portable communication device.)
To pass the time while we travel back to Minnesota, I suggest to my friends that we review what we experienced on our adventure. So we all sit thinking in silence for several moments, and Mickey says: “I know we did a few cool things, but I can’t remember.” Then I list some of the highlights: I remind the group about how I lost my vision on the way to Morocco; and about the time when Chris got drunk and tried to milk himself with a breast pump. Finally we all share a laugh recollecting how Mickey’s head got severed and we tried to sew it back on but it kept falling off.
The worst part about our road trip concluding is that I’m now out of spending cash.
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