Another car whizzes by, tail-lights fade to blackness. It’s almost midnight.
Sixty miles from anywhere – why do I keep doing this? The shelter wasn’t that bad.
Unroll my sleeping bag and crawl in. A mile away some farm-dog barks like mad. I close my eyes and pray no-one skids off the highway.
Sunrise, everything’s soaked with dew, and the ditch reeks of garbage. I collect my stuff and stick out my thumb. A car stops, and I sprint to an open window.
“Hop in, chief.” He looks at me with lizard eyes, but I get in anyway.