Four a.m. April first. Rain is forecast for most of the Northeast, but this morning the clear stars and full moon light the sky.
I drive from the Northeast, where I abandon an unfaithful wife and 700 books, and say goodbye to friends and family. The orange Corolla is packed with clothes and cards, a box of books, a kerosene lamp, and a goosedown sleeping bag. It’s a ten-hour drive from Uniontown, Pennsylvania, through wild West Virginia to the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.
I arrive in sunny Knoxville, Tennessee in mid-afternoon, and check into the Sheraton with my wife’s American Express card. I call my wife; she’s appalled that I used her credit card. Then she delivers an ultimatum concerning the divorce: I drop the adultery charge or she lists the orange car as stolen. It’s a stalemate — I have the car, she has the title of ownership.
