A Trip to the Safari Park

When I reached the downtown district, I parked the bike and caught a cab to the Los Angeles airport. Within thirty minutes I was in the air, returning to San Francisco. I was plagued with a feeling I couldnБЂ™t identify the entire trip, and the nebulous emotion stayed with me as I packed, paid my motel bill and returned to the airport. I bought a ticket to Las Vegas, using the name James Franklin, and I left the Barracuda in the airport parking lot, the keys in the ignition. It was the first of many cars I purchased and abandoned. I was still possessed by the odd feeling during the flight to Las Vegas. It wasnБЂ™t anger. It wasnБЂ™t sadness. It wasnБЂ™t guilt. I couldnБЂ™t put my finger on it until I stepped off the plane in Nevada. Then I identified the emotion. It was relief. I was happy to have Rosalie out of my life! The knowledge astonished me, for not six hours past IБЂ™d been desperately seeking a way to make her my wife. Astonished or not, I was still relieved. It was my first trip to Las Vegas and the city was everything and more than IБЂ™d imagined ...»