Bad truck.

August 19, Grand Haven.

I was struggling to stay awake on the drive this morning (apparently not the only one, it seems that everybody was dozing at the wheel today, as per a conversation with Sara later on,) until Fridman's truck slowed down and then died on the highway ten miles from here and we came to a stop on a very narrow shoulder. It's close to one o'clock and he's still there, Castro has figured out that it was the fuel pump that broke and Danny is on his way to buy one, so it'll be a long time still before they're done.