Beer at TJs

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

It's another day, humid and wet. It ends. Chuck and I go down to Paoli for a beer and something to eat. We go over the day and tell tales about the more distant past.

I go back to Phoenixville.

I sleep.