First ride: Quiet man, careful driver, through mountains.
Second ride: A pair of ladies, older middle aged, crushed pink velvet hard-case purse. Trunk empty, but for one baseball cap.
In Shikoku dead autos pile up; no, stack up and wait.
A bell hangs from the shift lever. She drives with bare feet.
A young guy picks me up. He is eager to chat. Offers to take me all the way to Yoshida but I decline. Maybe I should have.
