I was at a bus depot in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in the dead of night. The man sitting beside me had just served a year of hard time and all he possessed were some hygiene products. Feeling a pang of sympathy, I gave him some money for cigarettes and a hamburger. He then asked me if I liked snakes and, to my surprise, gave me a gnostic ring.
A few hours later, as we were traveling west, the guy sitting in front of me suddenly keeled over in his seat. The bus had to park in the desert. His body was laid out in front of the bus, and we all waited there for the medics to come and haul it away. It was a strange and somewhat eerie situation.
When the sun finally rose, we stopped for breakfast. However, I don't remember anything about this book. It seems that the events of that night and the morning overshadowed any memory I might have had of the book I was reading. Maybe it was because of the unexpected encounter with the ex-convict and the tragic incident that followed. In any case, that particular journey on the bus in Albuquerque remains etched in my mind, but the details of the book have faded away.