"Huh?"
Danniels had forgotten the youth of his companion. "I mean I'm going to where you can't go any further."
The driver nodded smugly, relieved that the threat to the vastness of his knowledge had been dismissed. "I get you, Pop. I guess I can take you close to where you're headed."
They rode on in silence, both relieved that they didn't have to try to span the void between age and position with words.
"You aren't anywhere near starvation, are you?" the driver said suddenly, uneasy.
"No," Danniels said. "Anyway I've got money."
"Woodrow Wilson! I'll pull in at the next joint."
The next joint was carved out of the flat cross-section of hill that looked unmistakably like a strip ridge of a Colorado copper mine, but wasn't ... even barring the fact that this was Illinois. The rectangle of visible dinner was color-fused aluminum from between No. Two and Korea.
Danniels was glad to get into the shockingly cold air-conditioning. It was constant, if unhealthy. The chugging unit in the car failed a heartbeat every now and then for a sickening wave of heat.