He decided to get a cup of coffee at the drive-through window of the gourmet coffee shop across the street from the eye clinic, so he pulled into a parking lot that seem- ingly covered the entire expanse of the earth in part from New York City to San Francisco with ruts as big as the Grand Canyon and mounds of broken-up blacktop as tall as Mt. McKinley along the way. The parking spaces had long ago departed for Shanghai. He passed a boarded up window of what had been a Brazilian Steakhouse, a defunct Dollar Store and the welcoming sign of the store- front hyper-evangelical church that had once been a Family Video with a porn section for adults only. He maneuvered his way around the geography without getting a flat or throwing the wheels out of line like he used to be worried about on the winding climb and descent on the one lane dirt road from Phoenix to Roosevelt Dam, pulled up to the window, ordered a medium coffee and headed back home humming the tune, “They Paved Paradise and Put Up a Parking Lot,” which reminded him of his old Kentucky home.