Norway Ron woke up to what sounded like the end of the world. He was dreaming of that kid that stabbed him a few years ago in...where was that? El Centro? Brawley? No, the gut. That little shit stabbed him in the gut. Funny. That dream doesn't even wake him up anymore. So what the hell did? A noise. Traffic. Cars. Usually Ron knows better than to sleep this close to the street. But the eucalyptus grove is a long way from that shitty bar he was in last night. Nice of those young guys to buy him a few rounds. Beer and pool. It'd been awhile...Ron chuckles to himself and scratches the whiteblonde growth on his jaw. He tries to make out some of the graffiti coloring the wall he's pissing on and his gaze slowly drops to the shiny hubcap rocking back and forth next to some orange peels and a used rubber. As the fog in his head begins to clear he realizes that this particular hubcap rolled over here as recently as 30 seconds ago. He feels along the wall until he is standing at the entrance to the alley hanging on to the security cage in front of a 'carneceria'. In the grey-blue light it all starts to come together. Groggy voices growing exponentially in exitement and number, drowning out the steady click - click - click coming from a ruined car. Spanish, English, Dog. Sirens in the distance. And a wreck. Damn, that looks like it was a nice ride a minute ago. Now it's good for nothing but shade. Sun's coming up. That girl on the ground doesn't look too good either. Probably a nice ride a minute ago...He stands there and watches the people swirling around him. How do people who live in this part of town afford cell phones? The sirens get louder and he thinks about that punk Ziggy and how he used to steal hubcaps for speed. Whatever happened to Ziggy?