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8:15 a.m. In the parking lot of a Childress, Texas McDonald's (ugh), Philo boasts what a "travelling machine" the Caravan has become. Hmm. Seems to me the Titanic was a travelling machine, too. As if having read my mind, someone warns, "Don't count your Znids before they're hatched, Philo." I return to the Courtesy Van.

8:15 a.m. In the parking lot of a Childress, Texas McDonald's (ugh), Burford has performed a supposedly impossible feat. He has defeated all the safety features of the White Courtesy Van. He has locked the keys inside.

The Caravan has to make time, so they continue down the highway while we figure a way inside. Unfortunately, the Courtesy Van's anti-theft features are more difficult to defeat than its safety features.

How'd we get in? Burford jimmied the door with twenty dollars, American. He traded them for the services of a friendly slimjim-wielding locksmith.

As with the CB, serendipity struck again: when Burford went back into McD's to use a phone, someone overheard & handed him Milton's home-made business card (free plug for ya, there, Milton).
Milton made a peculiar, if peculiarly touching, semi-ceremony out of redelivering the key ring. His fee was $15 but Burford gives him $20 for getting there within five minutes. There goes the money he saved on the CB (that story's next), as I'm sure he'll be reminded, because he's been rubbing in his good deal over Channel 13 ever since he bought it.

It wasn't long before we caught up with the Caravan. No damage.

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