We drove today from Oakland to Ashland, the next to last leg of our trip home. Along the way, in the mountains south of Mt. Shasta, we stopped for gas at a little gas station/restaurant in the precise middle of nowhere — Pollard Flat, it's called. The pumps don't take credit cards and have no legible readout. And as you walk into the restroom, all urgent and unsuspecting, this is what you see.
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