“Twenty years ago,” the other man said, “there probably weren’t any coons in there. Just nice, respectable, middle-aged white people that paid their fuckin’ rent on time and didn’t put coal inna bathtub or rip out the plumbin’ or bypass the gas meter and break all the windows. That was a long time ago. Twenty years ago, there wouldn’t be this problem you got.”

Two truckers sat in green cotton uniforms at the counter. They had large sweat stains at their armpits and the belt area of their backs. “I meet this guy,” Mickey said, “the diner out at Nine and Twenty?”

“The fuck’re you doin’ there?” Don said. “You got time enough, fuck around on those roads? The hell you didn’t take the Pike?”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey said, “will you lemme fuckin’ talk for once? You always have to go around interrupting me all the time, you asshole? I’m tryin’ to tell you something.”

“So,” Don said, “tell me something. I’m listening. I’ll listen to any asshole. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna pay attention, but I’ll listen.”

“I had trouble with the unit,” Mickey said. “I got off at Auburn, see if maybe there was someone could do somethin’, maybe fix it so I could drive it home and get Carl to work on it inna morning. So, and there’s nobody around. I said, ‘Some kind of all-night service you got here, Charlie,’ and by then I lost an hour already so I figure I might as well get a bowl of soup for myself. And I go down the diner and there’s this guy in there. I never saw this guy before in my life. And all of a sudden he’s gonna have this conversation with me. I’m tryin’ drink my coffee, and this guy I never saw before in my life says to me, ‘Come on, well go see Auburn Alice, the Long-haul Lady. So, only a couple miles. I ain’t got my rocks off since Buffalo.’