We're now passing through Oklahoma City during rush hour ... with a man at the wheel who has not yet driven the R.V. The occasional car is honking at us. I fear for my life, and so begin preparations for my imminent demise.
Others prepare for their fate in a different way. They play a strange game with symbols. New rules are being continually created. The net result is that the collective score continues to decline. With all hope of victory extinguished, we have reverted back to drinking scotch.
If anyone knows a place to eat in Wichita, let us know ... in the event that neither the R.V. nor this game consume our souls.
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