Fat People - Excerpt

I shop for a snack and find a motel. It is called The Rustic Arms. I register as Annie Bodwyn Carr. I park the Porsche in front of Door 19. Thrusday the 23rd of March. How did it get to be Thursday the 23rd of March?

I have been blessed with a less than perfect room. Three walls are papered yellow with red roses and the fourth is red with yellow roses. The back window faces a superhighway: two gasoline stations with bright yellow signs, a McDonalds and a large brick building with no windows in the facing wall. There is a sign framed in the middle lower pane. It read: Speed Limit 40. What a nice thing to say. I watch the passage of a bright orange Dodge pin-striped in black; it glints in the late afternoon sun. In the next room, a couple of guys are making it.

It is an anniversary. I am seven months on the road. Everything changes; everything stays the same. I have learned a thing or two. I remove the chenille bedspread to protect my nappy pants. It is easier than the Laundromat. There is a color tv.