Steve knew that renting an RV smacked of Middle America. By the end of the trip, he was smack in the middle of Erica

The sky was so blindingly bright it was more white than blue, with not a single cloud in it. The sun was baking the desert, the highway and me with about a hundred and seven degrees of hellacious, zero-humidity heat. It was the sort of weather you’d expect to find in the middle of the Mojave Desert, which was appropriate, because that’s where I happened to be stranded. I was stuck beside an empty, two-lane highway, roughly eighty-nine miles past the middle of nowhere, thinking about my darling Debbie and hoping another moron like me would drive by soon.

It had been Debbie’s idea to take a cross-country trip in a rented RV. “It would be a great way to see the country,”... Leer Más