Leo was tired of the same old. After going to bed with bruises all over his face from his older brothers and a sore ear from his mother who yelled at him about a failed math test, he was done. He hated the farm, he hated the country, he wanted to see the city. He wanted to drive a taxi in the big city and live with his grandpa. He had thought about this for some time, when he mentioned it to his brother Rick he laughed and punched him in the face then Bruce the other one picked him up from the ground and punched him again just because. Leo didn’t mind the punches; he just wanted to be with people who believed in the subway or took fifty floor buildings seriously. He snuck out that night, as bold as the knuckles that bled him, he snuck out a window and waved goodbye to the sleepy dog stretched out on the grass. He had some money, he had some things he could sell, he had a bag of tricks that he had thought up and saved for such a time as this. He had a one of a kind Joe DiMaggio baseball card, some cash he saved from his second summer job and a silver picture frame his grandmother had given him for his birthday that had been in the family for generations. He fell and cut open his knee when crossing the first field, when he tried to slide through the sheep fence he sliced open his hand. By the time he got to the main road he was covered in blood but smiling. A car sped by and came to a quick halt when seeing the lone child sprint ahead of its lights. It was a young man named Paul dressed to the nine’s smoking a cigarette, he told Leo he was on his way to the train station and would drive him. While on the way Leo told him of his dreams to travel and make curbside chatter with street vendors. Paul laughed and handed him a hanky.

   “Clean up kid; if you’re gonna be seen in public again.” He told Leo as he sped around a curve and nearly hit a deer, he sped up even more after. They passed one small town after another, no one was out. All of the stores were closed; all of the lights were off. The young man hit the breaks as fast as he turned the corners when an old man appeared face down in the middle of the road. When Paul tried to go around him Leo stopped him, the old man was Mr. Jenson from the bar. Leo convinced Paul to drive him to the next town where he lived. They threw him in the back, Leo waved him awake. He was drunk.

   “My wife Marcy left me for the bartender in Eli; she took the kids and the dog. She didn’t take my oldest son from my first wife though, she’ll never get him and he’ll never get him. He can name every whiskey and rum under a minute in alphabetical order and he can’t even do that to the forty eight states.” Leo cheered him up by talking about his future plans and his hopes to walk through central park and buy a real city girl a drink.

   “Buy her one drink to greet her two drinks to woo her and three drinks to help her forget if she’s wearing clothes.” Said Paul.

   “It took Marcy tens shots before she’d even wink at me.” Said Mr.Jenson. They made it to the next town where they got out and ready for the next move. Mr.Jenson sat down on a bench and mentioned he wanted to see the sunrise, Paul wanted to keep driving, Leo wanted to hop on the train.

   “Hey kid, don’t let anybody tell you what to do or push you around or control you. You’re your own boss and can do whatever the hell you want. Don’t let them fuck with you.” Said Paul, poking his head out of the car.

   “Don’t listen to women or Jews and don’t bet away your money or spend it on whores right away unless you have to. Don’t let them kick the country boy down aye?” Said Mr.Jenson. They both were proud of their advice and chuckled to themselves as they disappeared in separate directions. Leo found himself alone in an empty town hearing the train pound loud in the distance. He wondered why they chuckled.