Choosing Restaurants  I'm with a group of people who go to Brimson in Oak Valley. We're going out to eat. We go by my friend Gino Teavor's house and come to the intersection of Holy Avenue and Main Street. A man in our group is driving a black Suburban. My friend Tom Napper owns the Suburban, and is with the man in it. The man scratches the side of the Suburban while pulling up to the light, and then backing up next to some cement posts. Tom is angry that this happened. I'm worried that the man won't cross Main Street without being hit by a car. There is a lot of cross-traffic. I don't trust him, and I wish I were driving. I'm on a bicycle next to the Suburban. I balance on the bicycle, not moving, but not touching my feet to the ground. My friend Norman Noman and ex-girlfriend Jackie Hunter are there. They talk about the name of a cell. We all cross the street. I'm the only person on a bicycle. My bicycle is an old 10-speed. There are two restaurants to choose from: The Greasepit, or ____, which has a name similar to the Copper Lantern, but is a fast food place by the locksmith on Main Street. I ask people where they want to go. My classmate Fred Potter says the Copper Lantern-like place. We all turn right and go to this place. They serve turkey sandwiches. I go up to order. I see an order being served: it is turkey on two pieces of white bread with mayonnaise and some little trimmings. I ask the man serving it if that's all they have. He says it comes cut in half. I see on the price board that the cost of the sandwich is $4.76. I think to myself that I'm hungry, and would want three or four sandwiches. This is too expensive for me. I get on the bicycle and go to the Greasepit. People yell for me as I go. I go through the trailer park, breaking open a gate as I ride. I ride through a forest. The ground is soft with leaves and needles on it. My housemate Stephen Ramos is behind me in the distance, following me. I hear him singing. I wish he wouldn't follow me. I don't want him to try to persuade me to go back. I just want to just be, and in this case to be without him. The tune he sings is a kind of uplifting, mid 1980's, cheesy, see-the-light song. It goes, "...and through...". The pitch is high. I think my friend Matt Yams may be working at the Greasepit.