An image came to Jonathon. He was young, some time after the fire, after the funeral of his mother and sister. He’d gone away with Tamara and her band of gypsies when they’d left Lake Shasta, becoming part of their raggedy caravan of old rusted vans, junked cars, and a few motorbikes. Jonathon had ridden with Tamara on her old Honda, and when the caravan stopped for the night to set up camp in some farmer’s field, the two of them would weave the bike along gravel roads. They played a street version of combat biker with Ryan and Homey and the other caravan kids, all dreaming of being able to dodge and jump and flip the bikes like the great players. Like Dougan Rose. "He psyches me out of the game every time."