Cane follows them, and they make the turn from the loading area to the front of the motel.

  "Ever feel like you're going stir crazy? There has to be more to do here than this?" Jacob asks, "Hey, let's go to the gas station."

  "Why?" she says, then adds "not" to the end. Cane rushes to one of the cssic cars scattered around and climbs on the hood of a pale yellow Lincoln Continental from the 70s, an absolute boat of a car. He sits trying to look cool; legs crossed, he smooths his hair back before calling out to the pair. "Hey, I wanted to go for a drive. Do you two want to go?" He asks, patting the hood of the car he is sitting on. Izzy and Jacob turn around and look at him. “You can sit up front,” he says to Izzy. She looks at Jacob.

  “Any excuse to see something new,” Jacob responds, remembering the feeling of the motel room's walls closing in.

  They climb in, and he hits a button, and the roof folds back and is tucked into the trunk of the car. He grabs the keys from above the visor and starts the car with a purr. He fumbles around looking for the gear shifter before finding it and putting it into reverse. It's a boat of a car. It leans wildly as he turns the corner onto the road. He drives down the highway, the sound of wind and his tail swishing next to him.

  They ride in retive quiet, enjoying the gentle rolling ndscape. The small, stunted trees and the low grasses are so very different from the east coast. He pulls off the highway onto a smaller road. "Where are we going?" Izzy asks. Her rge Pink Floyd T-shirt with chunky sungsses doesn't look out of pce in the vintage car as they make their way down the narrow paved road.

  “I know a fun pce to spend an afternoon,” he says. “If that’s cool with you.”

  “How far is it?” Jacob asks, sprawled out in the back seat.

  In response, he points in the distance to a grouping of buildings. "The quiet little town of Bckrock”

  “How is there a town out here?” Izzy asks, leaning forward to get a better look.

  “There was an attempt to farm the area in the 1800s, then it was abandoned,” he says. “Then it became a training ground for the military.”

  “Yeah, then what?” Jacob asks. His love of town history reared its oddly shaped head.

  “Then as far as I can tell, a private security company bought it and sold small pieces back to people working at the ranch,” Cane says. "On Fridays I like to come here." He smiles warmly at her. "I hear tonight is going to be something special."

  They drive into the small cluster of buildings. The town is a weird mix of early sod-cut homes spruced up over the years. All the way to ultra-modern brutalist architecture. Cane lets the car idle and coasts along at 10 mph.

  They putt-putt their way to the heart of the small clump of buildings, a small grocery store called Sals Produce and a bait store next door called Dicks Bait and Tackle. The bait store has a handwritten sign that says, “Shrimping supplies avaible.”

  Jacob ughs, “Shrimping store?” He reads the sign again to be sure.

  “Yeah, several species of shrimp live in the ponds around here.” Canes' tail wags violently. “They are mouth-wateringly good.”

  “Shrimp in the middle of the country?” Izzy asks confused, “How is that possible?”

  Cane shrugs and pulls over in front of a rge building with circus-style lights fshing on the sign, “Macphersons Arcade,” the sign says.Izzy looks down the sidewalk to the left and sees a sign for “Macphersons Bowling Alley,” and she looks to the right, and there is a sign for “Macphersons Theater.”

  Cane shuts the ignition off, the engine coming to a smooth stop. Jacob asks, "How can a business like that exist out here?"

  “Government grants to keep the people busy and happy around here so they don't leave, and it means the visitors have something exciting to do.” He says as he gets out of the car.