Imagine driving on the 40 from Needles to Barstow. It is not hard. There is nothing there. No, I mean it. NO THING!
We are driving along listening to C.S. Lewis' book on tape "The Screwtape Letters" which by the way, is very good. We are engrossed, minding our own business, when we hit a bug storm. It sounds like rain slamming on our windshield. It only lasted for a second, but the remains told us it really occurred . That's right. Bug guts, everywhere. We couldn't get to Barstow quick enough. Scott was driving while looking through the guts.
Maybe they should rename the city Bugstow.
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