The sun lies down, the Greek, the Indian and me are all bored a little on Road 66 South, any line, endless in length. It is necessary more than two hours to cover the distance which separates us from Washington, even by exceeding the limit of 60/70 miles of the hour. One stops taking gasoline, the toilets are as niquelles as those of a hotel 4 stars, at least a trick which I will miss when I return to Home. The station is a faggot of rednecks, who fondle their pieces of dried ox drinking their watery coffee. One buys a Coke, I spend my last dollars.