Time to Move On

"It's time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It's time to move on, it's time to get going..."
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Time to Move On

Brendan had to go check into something at UCLA, Gunnar went with him, and Jack and Camila headed for New Orleans to get the footwork started for Brigitte's rites. That pretty much left me and Nate to fend for ourselves, entertainment-wise. Karaoke! But I already babbled about that. Probably should have waited to sober up for that one. Hell, probably should have waited to sober up to get in the car. My head is still a little fuzzy.
Anyway.

Jack and Camila ran into some trouble on the way, at least that's what Jack said. He was kinda vague, now that I think about it. But they're ok, which is really what matters. I'm glad he called me, I hope I wasn't too pushy about asking if they needed more money or another car.

We're following a couple of days behind them, bringing Brigitte with us. In a fridge. Hitched to the back of Nate's car.

We made a pit stop in Vegas for Nate to turn in his weapon, and I got to see this Alli chick. She's cute. Nate gave her his hat and a kiss that would make any mortal woman's knees weak.
I got him a new hat. A fedora. Fedoras are cool. My favorite action-archaeologist wears a fedora. Oh Indie... I digress.
We got back on the road after that, all back in one car, driving in shifts. The road is long and this country is too damn big.

And after like the 80th game of "I Spy" with Gunnar where the answer was "a gun," I'm ready for this part of the trip to be over.

"I spy something gold."
"It's your gun."
"Damn."