Wednesday, March 29th
The sun hovered around noon and drove the temperature to about eighty. Each truck shooting by brought me a private dust storm. I was now heading south out of Las Vegas, and felt relief when a brown sedan pulled over.
“Get in.” The driver handed me his business card: Harvey Pemberton, Sales Manager, Fletcher’s Portable Buildings, Las Vegas. Harvey appeared middle-aged, overweight, wearing a brown dress shirt and brown slacks. He’d blend into any average crowd.
As we ended our small talk about the heat, I shut-up. Listening had become my primary method of defense and gave me a chance to gauge each driver’s mental state.