can sweat it out； that’d be fine with me。 You know； I never believed this New Age crap； but it’s good stuff。”
Dan shook his head。 “I think my spirit guides are telling me to go home；” he said seriously。
The bongo playing stopped。 “Door to the farmhouse is open if you need to call Al’s taxi service；” Running Rainbow yelled； then resumed drumming。
Rufus shrugged。 “You’ll be okay？”
“Yes。 Have fun； Dad！” Dan yelled as he practically sprinted away from the campsite and toward the highway。 He didn’t want to wait for Al’s taxi service。 He just wanted to go home。 Stamping his feet on the asphalt； he put his thumb up。
A truck slowed down。
“What do we have here？” The driver leaned out his window。 He was missing three front teeth and was probably around sixty。 His long bushy hair reminded Dan of pictures of Jerry Garcia in his later years。 Was this where all the sixties stoners came to die？
“I’m heading to the city。 New York？” Dan said； trying to play it cool； as if he hitchhiked all the time。
Jerry Two nodded thoughtfully。 “Hop in！” he announced grandly。 Dan nodded and took a breath。 The cab of the truck smelled like patchouli and jasmine。
“Bringing my candles to sell in the big city。 You ever been to the Union Square greenmarket？ I have a booth！” Jerry Two said proudly as he floored the accelerator。
“Oh？” Dan said politely。 At least the cab of the truck was warm。 And he really doubted a candle…selling hippie would be a serial killer。
“Yep。 Me and my wife make ’em。 You got a wife？” the driver asked panionably。
“No。” Dan shook his head。 He tried to imagine himself and Vanessa in their sixties。 Would they still be making poetry and films？ “I have a girlfriend； though。 I’m going back to the city