On my 61th birthday I bought a shotgun with enough rounds to clear the streets of New York. Things were getting bad. If I didn't get out of the city now, I was never getting out of here. Thankfully I have two plastic jugs on moonshine. They would help get me close to the Mississippi. After that I was on my own."
The draw of the brokehead on the other side of the Hudson was enough to confirm, "If I can make it to here, I can make it to anywhere."
There are no cars.
There are no planes.
My feet will get to the Pacific.
From there I'll get home somehow.
In moonshine, more truth.
