He was looking for work, but hadn't been able to find anything.
As I drove around the outskirts of Tucson, a little jetlagged and
disoriented, I was often distracted from the road by the beauty of the
winter sun on the Sonoran desert cacti. Sitting in the front passenger
seat, Par said calmly, `I always wondered what it would be like to
drive on the wrong side of the road'.
I swerved back to the right side of the road.
Par is still like that. Easy-going, rolling with the punches, taking
what life hands him. He is also on the road again.
He moved back to the west coast for a while, but will likely pack up
and go somewhere else before long. He picks up temporary work where he
can, often just basic, dull data-entry stuff. It isn't easy. He can't
just explain away a four-year gap in his resum? with `Successfully
completed a telecommuting course for fugitives. Trained by the US
Secret Service'. He thought he might like to work at a local college
computer lab, helping out the students and generally keeping the
equipment running. Without any professional qualifications, that
seemed an unlikely option these days.
Although he is no longer a fugitive, Par's life hasn't changed that
much.
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