"Man, that was so cool!" he shouted, turning to face Slick. "Those chicks at the museum, man, it was far out! They practically had us move in with them. Oh man ..." He was laughing through his words, another distinctive Doof trait.

As an afterthought, he added, "They were so bitchy, man. I was glad to get the hell out of there"

"Will you please turn around and watch the road!"

"Relax, man, it’s all under control."

Mimi wasn’t convinced of that, but she kept quiet for the time being. The van traveled the 35 or so miles to Sherbrooke to the pleasant harmonies of Poco’s "You Better Think Twice", among other tunes. Amy was certainly thinking twice right now.

It was time to drop off Dave. He and Yonna got out of the van, walked a few yards away, hugged and exchanged addresses for future contacts. Dave had kind of toyed with the thought of perhaps hanging on with the group, Yonna intrigued him so. It was apparent, however, that the Bus was filled pretty much to capacity for the long haul. Doof had made it clear that there were enough bodies already. The Hussy Bus itself had made it clear. It certainly struggled over the hills through Vermont. For a fleeting moment, Yonna flirted with the notion of leaving the Bus and going on to accompany Dave. The words almost came out. Instead, she kissed him gently, tried mightily to hold what was to inevitably become a flood of tears to a trickle, turned, and climbed back into the Bus. Doof tooted the horn a few times and wheeled back onto the road. Yonna looked back wistfully as Dave lugged his back pack over his shoulders and walked on. A great hollowness overcame her. She felt as if a hunk of something had been torn from her inner self. Tears flowed freely down her brown cheeks. BugaLady tried to comfort her. Yonna was beyond that. She needed time to be able to deal with this. Never had she imagined she would get so attached to a guy so quickly. She simply gazed emptily out the window.

Sixty miles east of Montreal, along highway 10, the Hussy Bussers found a serene little campground in which to rest. They really hadn’t traveled very far this day, having left Earth Peoples Park at pretty close to 2 o’clock, but there was now a gap between them and where they had been, so they figured it was time to pull over.

This place they found was a privately owned campground, but the rates were cheap so they decided it was better than spending time searching the back roads for a vacant, secluded spot. Another important consideration was that it had showers. Amidst some gently rolling ground was a small lake, and up on a knoll overlooking this lake, they pitched camp. Or rather, they tried. Hordes of black flies bit and drew blood. Slap! Ouch! Slap! Damn! The litany went on ... and on ... and on ... It was brutal. The tents may have been sagging, but Slick, Doof, and Scottie abandoned that chore to furiously build the smokiest fire that they could. Through the screen netting of the door flaps and windows, eyes peered searching for signs of relieve. There were none. Brahms was scratching himself fanatically and the guys were cursing the little devils feverishly. As she gaped out of the tent, it reminded BugaLady of a scene out Alfred Hitchcock’s, "The Birds".

"Thank God, they’re little buggers!" she thought.

Mimi yelled from inside Yonna and Amy’s tent where she was taking cover.

"Hey, pass that bug spray over here!" She could hear the sound of the aerosol can that Serena was blasting full force at herself.

"OK, here ..." Serena quickly zipped open her tent flap, tossed it in the general direction of their tent, and frantically re-zipped, before too many of the flies could come in. As Mimi, Yonna, and Amy doused themselves in the greasy spray, Serena passed the time squashing bugs against the tent walls.

"Don’t forget me!" BugaLady begged. The scene repeated.

It was cool, and to make matters worse, rain clouds were moving in quickly, making darkness come on even sooner. Doof kept piling on scoops of pine needles to the fire. Then he’d sprinkle water. Smoke was everywhere, but so were the bugs. Finally, Slick urged everyone out of their shelters.

"If we don’t get something cooking soon, we’re not going to eat. The rain’s really coming on quick!"

The ladies came out, reluctantly, all but Amy. She sullenly sat in her tent, which pissed off Yonna and Mimi. Scottie and Slick lugged the picnic table over as close as they could to the smoky fire and set up the camp stove. Then they sprayed themselves. It provided only minimal relief. It just wasn’t up to the task.

"Hey, man," Slick said. "This Johnson & Johnson garbage is made for a backyard Shangri-La. It ain’t worth shit against these turkeys!"

"Canada, huh? I thought you guys knew what you were talkin’ about. Where did this disaster come from?" came a voice from a tent. "Can’t we go a different way? I just want to get to California!" Amy continued.

"Let me talk with her," said Yonna in an annoyed fashion. She disappeared into their tent. Slick looked at Doof and just shrugged. He remembered Doof’s fears having all these women along.

BugaLady simply said, "Don’t look at me!"

Doof and Slick laughed.

Dinner came and went. Finally the bugs went. Then the rains came.

　*******

Dawn came quickly, and it was a good thing. It had been a miserable evening and night. The first really such night since they’d left New York. The pattering, sometimes pounding, of raindrops had relentlessly continued throughout the darkness. Bodies slept, or rather tossed and turned, with sleeping bags pulled up over their heads. Though still cool, the sun came out bright and strong to rather quickly warm things up. Situated on the high ground as they were, the damp earth drained swiftly. A light mist rose gently off the lake.

The stillness this morning was broken by the sound of the sliding van door. Mimi was the first to rise. She looked slowly about. Everything was still. No one else was camped at this place. She peered out over the lake. There were three tiny islands out there in the middle. Brahms nuzzled up to her feet.

"My God! We're in Quebec," she stated aloud. She really couldn’t believe how far they were from the City. Fiddle and Gary seemed light years away now. Rob, too, though she knew she’d soon be seeing him again. It was weird. They’d only been on the road for six days now. She knew that. Yet the morning of the leaving felt as if it had happened in a different lifetime. Time had lost all meaning except for the present. She chewed over this phenomenon for a bit, then it occurred to her that there were real showers here.

"C’mon Brahms, let’s go get washed up."

"Wait for me!" a voice called. It was Amy, scrambling out of her tent.

"I’ll go with you."

"Sure. Can you believe we’re gonna take showers?"

"I know. It seems like a gift." As Mimi gathered her things, Amy continued talking.

"I can’t believe how pretty it is here." She almost felt like being here. "It’s peaceful ... I wonder where those dumb bugs are."

"Don’t think about them. Maybe they’re gone."

From another tent came another voice. Softly.

"I think not. Remember what Dave said ... Hold on, girls, I’ll come with you to shower."

"OK, Serena."

The threesome walked down to the shower house, towels, fresh clothing, and little wash up kits in hand. Amy brought along a hair dryer as well. It was exciting just thinking about that nice hot water streaming over your body, cleansing all the soot and grime and bug spray off the skin and taking that little nip of a chill away from the morning air. They arrived at a simple cinder block structure with swinging Dutch doors. Inside, were a couple of shower stalls, some benches up against the walls, and three sinks with metal mirrors that totally distorted your face hanging over them. Serena stood momentarily staring at the distortions. For a fleeting moment she felt like she was tripping again. She remembered seeing her reflection in the van window and watching her face melt into grotesque formations.

"Ahhh!" she squealed.

"What’s the matter?" Mimi asked as she was undressing.

"Oh ... I was just thinking about that acid trip ..."

"Pretty weird, huh? Scottie and I, we tripped a bunch. Pretty far out stuff ..."

"Oh, did you?"

Mimi realized Serena really didn’t want to hear about her and Scottie, even though it was clear it was all a platonic relationship.

"Well, maybe we better wash ..."

"Ooohweeeeee! Ahhhhh ..."

Amy burst out of the shower stall, soaking wet and naked. Mimi and Serena, startled, looked over.

"The damn showers are cold! Can’t anything go right on this trip!"

Amy was furious. This was not her idea of fun.

"A simple thing like some nice hot water!" She was ranting and raving now.

"Bugs everywhere. Look under that sink! Look at those creepy things! We can’t eat, we can’t sleep. We’re all crowded! Look at my arms! Bites everywhere. This is like living hell! I can’t take this anymore!"

Mimi couldn’t understand this at all. What did she expect? There never were any plans for this to be a luxury vacation. They were vagabonding. She looked at Serena, who was making a meager attempt at consoling, and shrugged. Then she disappeared into the cold shower to refresh.

It was a pretty spot here in the Quebec hills and it was decided upon to just linger here for a while and enjoy the peacefulness of it. And they did. For four nights. No particular reason, maybe just waiting out the black flies. The proprietor’s wife had told Mimi & Scottie, while they were visiting in the camp office one morning, that they’d probably be around another two weeks or so. They stocked up on bug spray. As they did, they admired the crafts on display, all made by the owner. Furniture of all sorts, made of highly varnished slabs of raw wood and pieces of drift wood. Beautiful stuff they thought. The others came down the little dirt path which rounded through the campground to the office to check this stuff out. All were impressed.

Perhaps Doof did have a reason for wanting to stay here, though he didn’t verbalize it to any of the others. He’d noticed a slipping of the Bus’s clutch the previous day or two. It had to be the strain of lugging all this weight up and over the hills in this terrain. Mostly though, and this pissed him off, it was due to all these rank amateurs trying to drive a stick. Scottie insisted he could. Mimi had given it a shot or two. Even Serena had tried once. Doof had shuddered each time, as he heard the grinding of the gears. Why the heck was he letting them do this? Community. All for one. One for all. It was that thing he and Slick believed in. The idea that would make this ensemble work. So, against his better judgment, he relented to each request to "Let me drive" Only Slick, who knew he couldn’t drive a stick, and BugaLady, who didn’t drive at all, avoided his quiet wrath. He was fuming underneath, though he tried not to let it show. He’d simply light up another joint. But he knew it was destroying the van. Now, it was slipping for sure and he really was scared to move on. He did nothing to encourage the entourage to begin anew.

Instead, they'd run into town and buy six-packs of that extra strong Canadian beer. Molsons, LaBlatts, whatever. Doof, Slick, and Scottie would sit by the campfire, drunk, playing guitars and singing Ramblin’ Man, while BugaLady, Serena, and Yonna would prepare meals, clean up, listen in, and try to make everyone comfortable. Mimi, too, but more often she’d sit and jot down her thoughts in her journal. She was near panic stricken at this point, and so wrote quite a bit.

"... I’m depressed right now. We’ve covered a lot of area, but if we keep going at this rate, we won’t be in Ann Arbor by next week. I really want Roy to come. I miss him a lot ..."

She was so concerned with meeting up with Roy. With little conception of how far they actually were from their rendezvous point, Ann Arbor, Michigan, she felt like they’d never make. Actually, they had plenty of time. It was only the 8th. They weren’t due to meet Roy until around the 23rd. Mimi felt near panic anyhow. So while Doof hemmed and hawed and had a fear about moving on, Mimi persistently pushed for hitting the road.

Amy simply slipped into an abyss she would have trouble climbing out of. She felt alienated, alone, and miserable. The bugs continued to haunt them. And they seemed to pick on her more than anyone else, though she’d have had a hard time convincing them of that. Each day seemed to end in a cold morass, as inevitably the rain would move in. She felt stuck in a quagmire. Joey seemed an eternity away. She was losing hope of ever seeing him again. She was having trouble remembering why she even wanted to.

The Hussy Bus stayed for several days. Fighting the bugs and the rain and the fears. More often, they found themselves fighting each other. Doof wanted to stay. He was angry that the others had destroyed his van. Mimi wanted to go. She was bitter and felt the others were going to cause her to miss Roy. Yonna had a hard time with her inherited role of consoling Amy. Serena seemed to resent Mimi’s closeness to Scottie. Slick felt angry over the fact that things weren’t going as smoothly as he felt they should be. BugaLady struggled to be the dutiful caretaker. A role it seemed Slick had created for her, though it did seem to come somewhat naturally. Only Scottie, and Brahms - two good buddies - seemed to truly rise above it all. They tumbled together in the grass, all over the hills, and in the warmth of the afternoons, down in the lake. While everyone else, to one degree or another, seemed to stew in their sullenness, these two playmates were in their element. Free to roam and act uninhibitedly. And they surely did.

It was a good thing, too. Perhaps had the elements not taken such a relentless stance, things wouldn’t have been so bad, but they were, and Brahms and Scottie served to perk everyone up. Especially Slick. As the unspoken leader of this entourage, he felt a duty to keep things together. He chuckled over the playfulness of these two and remembered his place. As the gang squabbled over dinner, he felt he had to act. No one really liked brown rice, but Yonna and BugaLady knew it was good for you so it was kind of force fed. You could never quite cook it right, but it was healthful. Trouble was it was invariably served with several cans of Dinty Moore beef stew poured over it. Dinty Moore! Slick couldn’t overlook the irony. He and Doof had practically lived off the stuff on their previous travels. And they were the epitome of this group. They didn’t quite fit into any category. They were just themselves. So, eating Dinty Moore was no big deal. It was chow. They had no image to protect. But now they were mixed in with the health crowd, so they took it with brown rice.

Scottie, Doof, and Slick downed it like it was going out of style. They ate much more than their fair share. Mimi, in fact, hardly ate any, being a vegetarian. Just some brown rice with a hunk of cheese. The ladies, some of them, felt the boys were eating a lot more than their 10 bucks worth and said so.

"Hey," Slick responded, "We’re in this together. We can’t be fighting over every stinkin’ thing. We eat more ‘cause we EAT more! That’s all there is to it. I mean we’re talkin’ ten lousy dollars a week. It’s all for the common good. It’s no big deal, no one’s gonna go hungry ... or broke ... Fight the bugs ... C’mon!"

His voice was rising. He paused as he reflected over the situation. Everyone was sitting around, rather downcast, plates in hand.

"And another thing!" He continued. "I shit yesterday!"

There was a twinkle in his eyes. All looked at one another, paused momentarily, and then broke up laughing. They crowned Slick the champ. He had outlasted them all.

*******

Yesterday had been the day they had journeyed into Montreal. Doof decided to see how the van felt, still not having spoken a word of his fear to anyone, plus they needed supplies. So they left their semi-permanent little encampment in place and decided to see the big city. They piled in and took off on the 60 mile ride. Doof was relieved to find the van didn’t seem quite as bad as he had thought. I was a nice mini-excursion. No bugs there in the city.

As they entered Montreal, they found a totally incongruous sight. Old gothic style cathedrals side by side with modern neon signs. In French no less. Throw the Hussy Bus into the picture and what a scene. They parked the Bus, and gleefully frolicked down the streets, poor Brahms left behind to guard the van. Mimi thought how it reminded her of Manhattan. They were now in their element. Except for that French. It posed a problem in this Province, most notably in this city with all these people around. Slick had studied - or more correctly, been taught - the language since the fourth grade. Right through one of those incomplete semesters in college. He hardly had studied it. He had always hated it, and very little had sunk it. He could read it a little, but to converse? Out of the question. Luckily, BugaLady had retained some of her learning and, by default, was selected to communicate for the group.

"Parlais vous Francais?"

"Je ne cez pais."

On it went. She did well though, and as they sat in this big, airy ice cream parlor, was able to get the orders right. Everyone sat, relishing the ice cream, which was delicious, and once again that they were free and far away. Maybe not far away enough to suit Mimi, but away nonetheless.

Serena thought it weird to be in a place where you couldn’t understand a word being spoken around you. Yonna tried to figure out what all the signs said. Slick wanted to find a bank so that they could exchange their currency, or some of it. Doof was wondering how they could cop some more weed. So they wandered around the city, taking in some culture, to BugasLady’s continuing delight, and amusing themselves with the exoticness of the place. Amy secretly mulled over the possibility of leaving. She just wasn’t happy. Oh, there were moments, to be sure, where she was having a good time, laughing along with all the rest. But it was just little isolated spots. Mostly, she just longed for home. Though all were aware to varying degrees of her wretchedness only Mimi was really keying into it. She thought her a weird egg. Never could see why Slick and Doof had picked her in the first place.

"Bonjour, Madmoiselle!"

Slick was vainly trying to recall his French.

"Mon ami!" responded BugaLady.

The two embraced there on the city streets.

"We’re gonna hafta find some amusement now. Look at these two." Yonna pointed out.

"Good idea! Hey, man we passed an amusement park on the way in here. Wanna go?"

"Wild, Doof! Let’s do it!" Scottie responded looking towards Serena for approval.

Mimi would rather have gone back to the campground. They’d left Long Island to escape this madness. Amy couldn’t care. She just wanted to leave. It was welling up inside of her.

"Yeah, man. We’ll grab some hot dogs or somethin’ and chow down ... Let’s go!"

Doof was revved.

"OK, let’s blow this burg!"

Slick led the way back to the Bus and a yelping Brahms.

They were off. Off to the amusement park which was distinctly similar to Adventurer’s Inn back on Long Island. Mimi rode the roller coaster, they strolled the Fun House, stoned, ate some cotton candy, threw some balls threw hoops, and had a genuinely good and loose time.

The nightly rain was moving in and it was getting late, not to mention that they were still an hour away from base, so they left their little excursion away from travel routine and headed back. It was dark along highway 10, but there under the yellow glow of the freeway ramp lights were two rather ragged, long haired young men. Free of their baggage, Slick looked at Doof.

"Why not?"

The Bus screeched to a halt. One of the men uttered something in French as Scottie slid the van door open.

"Uh, oh."

Yonna pushed BugaLady toward the open door to translate. Before she could utter a word, the other of the hitchhikers, Stephan, said in very broken English,

"Hello, friends!." He waved. "My friend Francois & I, we headed only few miles up the, eh, road here."

He paused momentarily as he spanned the faces inside the van. Reaching under his leather, fringed vest he continued,

"We have what you call stash ..."

He held open a clear plastic baggy.

"We share for ride?"

"C’mon in!"

Doof and the boys, and girls, had scored again. Stephan and Francois turned them on, then sold them an ounce of some rare Canadian homegrown, before asking out about 10 miles outside of the city. The Bus sped on, reaching camp amidst a driving, cold rain. They ran for the shelter of their tents, all but Doof and Mimi, who this night shared the Bus, and fell asleep to the now very familiar sound of raindrops on nylon, content with the knowledge that soon they’d be moving on. Again.

Actually, one more day was spent here at this placid location by the lake. It was a mostly beautiful day, and everyone relaxed in the sunshine of a relatively bug free day. There was a ton of wet clothing that needed to be hung out to dry. While it did, Amy, BugaLady, and Yonna lay out to sun bathe. Doof still remained in the same set of clothes, but at least Slick had let it be known that he had finally, after seven long days, relieved himself.

So while all the inner conflicts attempted to work themselves out, as Mimi longed for Roy and was grossed out by Doof, who she kept telling herself that she really loved dearly, as Amy steadfastly remained grossed out by the whole scene and longed for a way out, as Doof sat, stoned, horny as hell and longing for all the nice looking French women he observed in Montreal, as Yonna and Serena wondered what to do about the food situation ... it went on ad infinum. As the bugs began to mass for still another assault. As the warmth of the day repeated it’s routine of melting away into a cold, dreary rain. As Doof rose above his stupor to once again focus on the van’s possibly ailing clutch. As this all went on, everyone attempted to pull themselves together for the next, unknown chapter.

*******

It was grinding badly as the Bus struggled on through Montreal. Doof knew it was hopeless. By now, everyone else knew, too. The clutch was shot. It kept slipping and making weird grinding noises. It was maybe 20 miles outside of Montreal, on Highway 15, that the Bus would go no more. The Hussy Bus had died.