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Show 155 May, almost five months before Steve talked his sister into buzzing his hair off, which was two days before he rolled down the windows in his track and felt the fast wind on his face as he flew down 1-80. He had already picked up a speeding ticket that day and, even though he would be dead before it was over, I bet he was banking on the rale that no one ever gets two tickets in the same day, as I'd seen him do before. Steve thought up the Antelope Island expedition and called us all because he was in a bitter mood regarding his home life. Tamara had moved out again two weeks ago, saying she would move back in once Steve told his parents that they lived together. He hadn't done so, which left Steve with a blue chair, a wooden stool, some basic kitchen equipment, a 13 inch television, and a new roommate. Steve told us two things about him, as if they were all we needed to know: he kept an electric fan set on high in the middle of the living room, even though the apartment had central air, and when in disagreement the roommate would say, Bologna! as refutation. Steve told me had been driving to Utah County a lot, which I'd hoped was some kind of metaphor. But the cases of tuna fish and bottled water in the back of his pickup bed did suggest he was between cities and houses. We took whatever road came next until we found a place to camp where no one else was in sight. Even though I was technically the only Eagle Scout among us, I was glad that Steve was responsible for the fire a) because he remembered to bring a lighter and b) because he actually knew how to start a fire. Steve wasn't an Eagle Scout because he refused to lie about his Personal Fitness |