The car was now burning a quart of

oil

every 500 miles. A normal person would get that fixed as soon as they could afford to. They weren't planning on driving it back. So let it burn, let it god damn burn, the man in the expensive suit said while staring out into the desert.

They got an oil change every 500 miles. This meant they were getting an oil change about every day. Each time the mechanic would say something like "you know you car is burning oil?"

Yeah. either Love or the man in the expensive suit would say. When Love said it, the mechanic would insist that he get it repaired. Love was a pushover like that. Solicited recommendations. But when the man in the expensive suit said the same thing. Yeah. The mechanics always did a double take. And then shut their mouth and went about their own way.

Denver never dealt with the mechanics. He was now too sick to get out of the car. Would be hugging his oxygen tank, barely awake. Mechanics found it odd that an old man was sleeping in the car as they changed the oil. One 

mechanic

even said, you know we can't do that?

Marc looked at him with sad eyes. Felt bad. Was about to apologize. But then the man in the expensive suit said, shouldn't be a problem. Just get us some new oil, okay?

After that, they'd have new oil. Then they'd eat something greasy. Usually cheesy and with a lot of dead animal. Well except for Denver. He was eating nothing but grits. Flavorless gruel. Only thing his stomach could keep down at this point. One time while stopped by a diner the man in the expensive suit asked, what the fuck's wrong with you anyway?

Both Denver and Love looked up thinking they were being spoken to. But it turned out the man was asking about Denver. Neither he or Love had shared why he was sick.

Oh I'm just old.

But you're only like 70. Aren't people supposed to last like until 90 these days?

I'm from a different time. I guess?

The man in the expensive suit examined Denver. His eyes looked like they were pitying him. You could tell through the dark shades.

That dinner wasn't fun. And the car was fuming now. And it was night. Love did not feel so well. He wanted to take a nap. But he couldn't. Denver was in no shape to drive. And the man in the expensive suit refused to take off his sunglasses.

Relax. Just go take a nap you baby, he said. I'll be fine.

Well can't you just take those sunglasses off--

No! the man in the expensive suit stared Love down through the shades. And then Love was too damn tired to give a damn anymore. If he fell asleep and this imbecile wearing sunglasses crashed the car and killed them all, so let it be.

So Marc Love fell asleep. Listening to the steady sound of oxygen pouring into Denver in the backseat. And the sound of a 

Hyundai

 engine that didn't feel like it would make it to their destination. The man in the expensive suit was going 15 mph over the speed limit.