The Violence That Finds Us

The Violence that Finds UsIn 1958, I was on the Going to the Sun highway in Montana, headed toward Canada on a 650-c.c. Triumph motorcycle. It was after dark, and despite the fact that it was August, it was cold. Consequently, when I saw a little place with a restaurant sign out front, I stopped. The dirt parking lot was filled with pickup trucks and old cars. I went inside and had to stand for a minute or two before I found an empty table, because the place was pretty much filled. A few people...