I'm getting out of the truck. There's other stuff I need to do with my life.

I always knew you wouldn't stay forever, you say.

But I got to be able to come back. It will be like not seeing your best friend, not seeing the sunrise a hundred different places.

You're not talking about missing me, you say.

Oh, I'll miss you.

Listen, someday we can get a little trailer and go where we want. We can choose, you say.

Day out, day in, that's how you get to know somebody. The sickness and in health thing.

What are you talking about?

Kneeling under the truck, chains, snow blowing sideways, midnight, Donners Pass. Crawling five miles per hour to Emigrant Gap.

We'll go to Yosemite, you say.

The only reason we went to Palo Duro Canyon is because they'd let us in.

We can go to Big Bend. You always wanted to go to Big Bend.

Devils Fork State Park, South Carolina. The rhodedendrum forest with the stream. Climbing up to that giant granite cap of flat rock where you could look across the hills forever like a Cherokee.

You had that ace bandage on your knee.

But I had to go because there was the chance.

The battlefield outside Chattanooga....

Yeah, right. How many times do you think I'd pick a battlefield?

I'm interested in the Civil War, you say.

The thing is, it's not so easy leaving a best-body behind. I'm not sure how I can do it.

We'll get a trailer you say again.

It won't be the same with us picking and choosing I answer.