Straight Outta Stanton

"Hell, the powers-that-be didn't even give us this," mutters Stanky as he shoots past the Stanton city limits and toward the onramp of the Garden Grove Freeway. "A couple of hundred yards more, and we woulda had a freeway, too. Maybe then everything woulda been different."

The Travel All swirls around the cloverleaf, and everyone rolls down their windows, inhaling the blend of still cool air and high-speed traffic. Stanky merges by threading the needle between two obstinate trucks, and the Pocket Clowns become giddy. "We don't need to go too far," says Tabitha, who hasn't spoken since before the show. "This place is as good as any."

Wordlessly, Stanky begins to pull over to the side of the freeway, coming to a stop equidistant between the Magnolia onramp and the Brookhurst exit. He turns off the engine, and everyone flings open their doors and soaks in the magic and danger that screams past 10 feet away, a mechani-human nightmare that gradually manifests as a semierotic sort of artistic internal combustion. Stanky pulls out a guitar, Ginger L. picks up a notebook, Tabitha slaps the back of the seat, Y.N. turns loose a little wordplay, and Hewitt emits some guttural noises that sound as though he's channeling an oompah band.

"This is how they do it, and sometimes they do it all night," says Spooky Mike as he gets out of the car and heads for a call box. "I'm getting a ride home. You're on your own."