Ride To Florida On Highway 2  I'm at the Oak Valley Bank. I go out the south door, picking up a jar a salsa and a man who needs a ride. We get into my truck. He needs a ride to Florida, he says, and that we should get on Highway 2. I go west at first, thinking I'm going east, but knowing I'm going in the wrong direction. Then I go east, and it seems right. We are back at the Whitman house. My roommate Stephen Ramos' car, a light blue Monte Carlo, is parked on the side of the road, and is dented and smashed up. Another car with its engine missing is there. The engine has been stripped and stolen. The man has an old school bus parked there. I tell he should get the title and sell it to me for 10 or 20 bucks and I'll junk it for him. He wants a car to drive, and is thinking about taking the engine out of Stephen's car and fixing up the body of the other car, and combining the two. That would be a big project: a lot of work.