Luc Barbon felt like he was escaping from the reality of 1968. Retreating from his own dead-ends in the Ozarks and Dallas, and about to bury himself in another foxhole in East Texas. A place where the world evolved around a Dairy Queen. It just might be, he speculated, a safe spot to be for a while. What trouble could he possibly get into hidden among the Magnolias in the Black-Eyed Pea Capital of the World.
What lay ahead was a blank slate. He wondered if this was going to be the way it is, always going somewhere, always leaving somewhere behind. He would soon discover he was like tumbleweed on a mission, his roots were shallow, and easily uprooted with the winds of change.
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