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Turned out we could all use a visit to the bank machine, so John started the car and we left. A couple minutes down the road and finding an ATM turned out to be a cinch. John turned into a shopping center parking lot and parked next to its front curb. There was a machine outside between stores. John stepped out of his door onto the curb and Mark and I got out and stepped around. With John already at the machine with his card out, Mark and I stopped and took out our bankcards and chatted about the difficulty so far experienced.

John worked the ATM, a series of beeps sounding as he selected his transaction. A car pulled up and stopped about a car’s length behind ours. Driving the car was a normal-looking guy, date at his side. They looked to be doing a night on the town, or dinner and a movie. He said a couple things to her before he got out and came over to where Mark and I were waiting and asked if we were in line. I told him we were. The guy turned back to go to his car just as Mark stepped over behind John, leaving me standing there alone and nodding.

“Yes, we are in line. That we are.”

John came away from the machine with legal tender in hand, and then Mark inserted his card into the machine. John stuck his wallet into his left back pocket and stepped over to me.

“Since you can’t seem to get us anywhere near a cool bar, how about you go ask that guy where there’s a place to get a beer and maybe shoot some pool.”

John rubbed his stubbly chin, and I persisted my urging with a “just do it” comment. John gave in with a reluctant sigh, stepping over to start a chat. Mark finished at the ATM machine and I moved to take my turn. I passed by Mark on the way.

“John is on the case.”

I had spoken from the side of my mouth, and Mark chuckled and looked over to where John had approached the guy. I stuck my card into the machine hoping for the best, because no decal on the machine said it took an “Honor” system card, which mine was. I entered my PIN, Betsy’s street address number plus one, and when prompted I asked for a twenty. The machine processed my transaction, and the familiar shuffle and printout noise heralded a successful completion.

“I’m good for it.”

It spit out the money, which I pulled out and stuck into my wallet. After I took the receipt and my card I turned around and strutted over to Mark with a mocking smile. He had predicted that my honor was no good in this town. John came away from the normal-looking guy, who then made his way to the ATM. John walked over to the Cherokee with a funny look on his face. He got in.

“I guess he knows where to go,” I said.

Mark and I went around to the other side and got in. John had already started the car, and when we closed our doors he put it in drive and drove away, circling around in front of the stores and leaving the same way entered.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well?” asked Mark.

“Well, he didn’t help much.”

“What do you mean?”

“What did he say?”

“When I stepped up to the guy I felt like he was laughing at me for my shabby look, but I went ahead and cordially asked him if there was a good place to get a beer and maybe shoot some pool. He looked at me attentively as I asked the question, and then he pondered it for a moment, while looking me up and down…”

We were all ears.

“Then he said, ‘I think you’re looking for Rock Island.’”

Mark and I laughed at this, and John said he had been given directions, which he listened to like fresh news.

“I just thanked him so I could escape.”

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“If experience were to a human being like a transmission is to a car, what would happen if you lost your experience? Unlikely as it sounds, it is a condition that can exist. I had been operating from this neuropsychological state since 1987, but I wouldn’t even begin to realize it until after 1993 while I was attending the University of Georgia, a Drawing and Painting major and member of a social fraternity.”

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.