Tuesday, 04 November 2003 | Denny's!

I returned to New York via a diesel U-haul which whistled and roared and made me cringe every time I saw a black cloud of foul-smelling smoke dance in the rearview mirror. Sometimes it floated as far as the windshield and into the cab, and I would reluctantly suck it into my lungs through a filter made with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I'd originally planned to fly back (I'd already bought a plane ticket), but I didn't mind taking highways instead; sometimes I miss highways.

Although highways lower your standards. If there's nothing in the vehicle but a radio to sing to you (as was the case in the U-haul), you find some curious pleasure when you discover a bad classic rock station. You consider twisting your legs and resting them on the dashboard a comfortable position. You eat fast food and convenient store sugar, and you announce, with a tinge of excitement, the Denny's sign you saw on the side of the road, even though you know that you will feel regret after you finish your food and that the robust air conditioners in the restaurant will force you to wear gloves while you eat.

We stayed overnight in a nowhere town in Maryland at a flat one-story motel which was affiliated with a neighboring dive bar that sold incredibly cheap beer. To get a room at the motel, you have to make your way through the bar and get a key from the bartender. The room you're given has thin carpet, a stiff, flowered bedspread (the kind with the foamy underside), and two wrapped bars of Lisa Luxury Soap in the bathroom. It is nicely unrefined, not that you spend much time in upscale hotels.

We arrived in New York at 3:00 the following day. Of course I'm not much help moving furniture, as the mobility of my right arm is still limited, and my triceps have all but died. But I can read road maps, I have ideas (like going to Denny's!), I can clean, and I can guard the truck. Other than those four things, though, I am completely useless.