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Summary
Ma used to say the road to hell was paved with good intentions, but Nat is not so sure of that anymore, not after hours of drumming her fingers on the wheel of the heaving old truck and praying the thing in the rear-view mirror doesn’t notice that she knows it’s there. The road to hell isn’t paved in anything but gravel and white paint and the occasional sign of ROAD CLOSED AHEAD.
or: if you travel across the great americana, you'll find the cracks in reality easily enough.
