HOMEWARD BOUND ( BUT NOT WILLINGLY )

So, I drive back toward Texas with my tail between my legs... a failure. But a failure with a 1/4 pound of weed and (yes, another) 8 ball of coke. The coke in Colorado was so much better than the stepped on shit we could get in Texas...I was sure to be a hit when I got home, deflecting the utter failure with quality blow was a sure fire way to make myself feel better.
It was beginning to dawn on me that I needed a new plan, one that didn't involve so much substance abuse. You could get away with being a part time drug dealing pot smoking slacker in the seventies. The eighties required a new plan. I needed to change it up a bit.
I had lots of windshield time to ponder this on my way home, and Buddy was unconditionally on my side. After all, I fed him and let him out when nature called.
My truck started misfiring and finally died somewhere in southern Colorado, it finally died and with my limited mechanical knowledge I determined it was the coil.
I locked Buddy in the cab and walked back to the last town we had rolled through and bought a new coil...the store employee that gave me a ride back to my truck hung out long enough for me to realize it wasn't the coil. He looked into my distributor and found the wire that had come loose and fixed it. No charge, but I was stuck with the $40.00 coil because there's no return on electrical parts. You never know when you're gonna need a coil, but you KNOW when you're gonna need that 40 bucks that fucking coil cost you.
So, I'm out of money...I pawn my TV and some other shit in the next town just to have the money for gas to get home.
I had some robin's eggs (speed pills) that I took so I could be like a long haul trucker and get home in record time and grind my teeth down to the nub. I remember pulling into a gas station in Dumas Texas and when my truck stopped moving, I did not. I was forced forward into the steering wheel. I filled up, got coffee and ate another robins egg. I didn't know it then, but I was psychotic.
I mean, come on, it's the middle of the night in the wasteland that is west texas...I was in a fucking David Lynch movie for all I knew.
So, I'm cruising along at about 80mph in the wee hours down I-87, listening to that god-awful Loverboy cassette and I hear a tap-tap-a-tapping that is not part of the music.
Truck.throws.a.fucking.ROD....AUGGGGGHHHH! I am dead in the water.
When the sun comes up there is a sign about a 1/4 mile down the road that says Big Springs, 14 miles.
I remember the dash lights going to an amber strobe mode, I remember the semi's going by
shaking my now dead truck to the left and the right...I remember thinking "what the fuck am I gonna do now"?