By Jesse Scaccia

Screw you, you bleached blonde, upper-middle-class, husband brings home the bacon and slaps it straight on your rump house wife. I hope God magnifies the rays of the sun through the tinted windows of your luxury SUV and it burns your white skin bubbling like hot mozzarella on a slice of thin crust.

My thumb had been out for over an hour. My thoughts were no longer sanguine.

Complete Article - Part 1

"Something about The Miracle feels like you and the driver have worked together to tap into the collective subconscious, and that feeling is as intoxicating as anything else in this world."

I have a confession to make. The nice man did blow me in the breakdown lane of the I-5, and it was magnificent.

Complete Article - Part 2

“Anybody got drugs?”

I was in the front seat as the Chinook navigated through switchbacks in the Pacific Coast Range. Ryan’s shoulder was in my lap to get leverage against the powerless steering. Great and noble redwoods held council around a deep blue lake at the bottom of a ravine. Giant bright green pines stood like missiles pointed at the moon.

Complete Article - Part 3

It was dark by the time we parked the Chinook and followed Ryan as he crept through the weeds toward the sound of the ocean. I heard Ryan begin to fall, the nature of his descent unknown underneath the flickering stars. The full moon looked like the unblinking eye of some intergalactic beast.

Complete Article - Part 4

I sprinted to the median, did an army roll over the barrier, and hustled to the other side of road. It was still raining. The soulful green of nature was all around me except for the silver streak of the highway and a suspension bridge hazy in the distance.

Complete Article - Conclusion