He was fairly certain that he was in suburban Atlanta, at least to the extent that he could feel fairly certain about anything. The sun, barely high enough in the sky to reach over the downtown buildings in the distance and flood the highway with burning yellow light, was over his left shoulder. That signified that he was traveling northeast. This could be I-85 North. If so, he could take Indian Trail to Lawrenceville Highway. At that intersection, he should find the apartment complex where he had once shared an apartment with his best friend, Manny McBroom. If Manny was there, he would know what to do. Maybe. When Johnson comes to in a car on the side of the Atlanta highway wearing someone else"s clothes, he has no memory of how he got there. The last thing he remembers is drinking a beer and watching a NASCAR race in his apartment in Buffalo in 1981. So then how did he wind up with thinning hair and a Georgia driver"s license dated 2008? As he struggles to make sense of the world...