“Speaking of streets and history,” Sandy says, “I was driving east on the Garden Grove on a really clear morning a few weeks ago, first morning of a Santa Ana wind, you know? You could see Baldy and Arrowhead and everything. And the sun was just up, and I looked north to where the old Orange Plaza used to be—a little west of that, I’d guess. And I couldn’t believe my eyes! I mean, down there I suddenly saw this street that I’d never seen before, and it had really tall skinny palm trees on one side of it, and the street surface was like white concrete, wider than usual, and the houses on each side were solo houses with yards, little bungalows with enclosed porches and grass lawns, and sidewalks and everything! I mean it was like one of those old photos from the 1930s or something!”

Jim is bouncing in his seat with excitement, leaning over into the front. “Where, where, where, where!”

“Well, that’s the thing—I don’t know! I was so surprised that I got off at the next exit and tracked on over to take a look for it. I thought you’d be interested, and I even thought I might want to buy a house there if I could, it looked so … So I tracked around for about a half hour looking for it, and I couldn’t find it! Couldn’t even find the palm trees! Since then every time I drive that stretch I look for it, but it just isn’t there.”

“Whoah.”

“Heavy.”

“I know. I figure it had something to do with the light or something. Or maybe a time warp.…”

“Oh, man.” Jim hops up and down on his seat, thinking about it. “I want to find that.”

They track some more. In the cars around them other people live their lives. Occasionally they track by freeway parties, several cars hooked together, people passing things between them, music all the same from every car.

“Let’s fuel up,” Tashi says. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s swing into one of the drive-thrus,” Sandy says, “so we don’t have to leave the loop. Which shall it be?”

“Jack-in-the-Box,” says Abe.

“McDonald’s,” says Jim.

“Burger King,” says Tashi.

“Which one?” Sandy shouts as they pass one of the drive-thru complex offramps. The others all shout their choices and Tash reaches over Sandy’s shoulder for the steering switch. Abe and Jim grab his arm and try to move it, and the struggle begins. Shouts, curses, wrestling holds, karate chops: finally Sandy cries, “Taste test! Taste test!” The others subside. “We’ll try all of them.”