Last time I left off, Torte, Wilco, Frost and I had been abandoned by the Greyhound service. Standing outside of Grand Union Station, we eagerly awaited the arrival of our bus headed towards the fabled Louisville Kentucky. Torte would be joining our little band of ne'er-do-wells from here until Michigan. We'd made idle banter, mainly about how ridiculously late our bus had become and where it could possibly have displaced itself to. A mob of people developed waiting for this bus, and even more for... read more
