michigan 1:1
In Flint, I got out of the car to inspect the street.
Putting my eye to the ground made the asphalt appear oceanic, the worst streets of the entire trip, like driving
over a pile of tires. New American cars, built in Japan, roared by, clattering and banging in the ruts and holes.
We were in an old American car, a Ford from the early seventies. I was afraid to go on. I did not think the
suspension would make it across town, and they don't sell used cars in Michigan. They ship them to Louisiana.
We went into the adjacent restaurant. I was almost out of cash, but I felt like a delay might make the difference, as
if they'd repair the roads while I ate pancakes. Jill and Jack each had a plate of fruit compote, blueberry and
strawberry respectively, the cakes smothered somewhere below. Are we lost, said Jack. No, I said, we are
right Here.
move on...
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads:
