edited for continuity
 

Tabs rethinks his original plan, if he was to fail at his mission, he would rather fail behind the wheel of his 911.

Fan belt, such a simple item yet can bring such a big problem. He makes it back to the auto, his trusty friend and soon locates the item he so desperately needs - "conti" said the label.
In the dark he worked, clockwise or counterclockwise? Pinch the belt? 3 shims or 4? All these questions circled and intermixed with the earlier thoughts to create a big mass of confusion that spared no one. Noises, and plenty of them. Coyotes? Looters? The evil half-coyote thief Roy from the infamous MM gang? Doesn't matter, Tabs feels nothing as he has nothing to lose.

Lid goes down, the odd shaped key on the left hand side turns, the whir of the starter, and a familiar coughing followed by the sound of the powerful fan pushing mightiliy to cool the flat six.

1st gear, 2nd gear, all is running well. Tabs feels elated, as if he cheated fate.

The drone of the flat six soon lulled Tabs into a dim stupor. The roadway ahead looked like an endless white line straight into oblivion. The engine roared, the hum of the tires, static on the radio, white lines becoming a blur as he shifts into 5th gear, his mission uncertain. Random thoughts flew through his mind as he calculated his next step.

Tabs recalls the day that Vegas fell. The ring of the ballot box in 2004 would be his undoing. Bush pressed the button, and the world was brought to it's knees. Sin city, with all of it's lights, suddenly passed away with nothing but a whimper. What was once a city where the inhabitants reveled in lustful excess was not a wasted shell. The four horsemen had left their mark, and as it was said, soon became known as truth. "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" remarked Tabs as he drives on into the night.

Wayne was a fictitious figure. A legend created from a common man, he possessed unique powers that only men can dream of. Half crazed, Tabs pushes onward to the great ruins of LA, through the mountains, on his journey to find the great one who can offer salvation, to claim his place with the gods. "go there" said the loud voice in his head.

Re: edited for continuity
 

That loud voice in my head is Mother yelling at me....keep yours hands on the wheel, keep your eyes on the road, watch out for that Squirel crossing the road, your going too fast your going too slow..its enough to make anyone half crazy...anything to be rid of that voice I cry, anyway now U know where I got those squirle ribs, and boy were they tasty, I was even able to use some of that greas on my fingers to keep my suspender belt nice and pliable. ....dam iit if the smell of that Squirel fat doesn't give me away to some of those outlander rogues. Anyway as I crusie on into LA I whistle a tune....Didja ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?

Mother went strangely silent. Tabs thought...no, *knew* when she meant when she insisted he throw the ipod into the bathtub at the peak of "Tales of Brave Ulysses." Her limp body puffy from the grapefruits and sangria. In a panic he called 912. He knew that six was too much...better to stick with 4. A gentle voice on the other end of the line took his name and buffet number and said they'd call him back. Told him to sit tight. Told him to keep quiet. Or else. Or else she'd be back.

"How his naked ears were tortured..."