I get up early. I don't why, although I am conscience of the fact that we have another big day ahead of us. I take advantage of that the fact that the others are asleep to write a few postcards, post them and look around town for a travel agent. It's time for me to pay for those sins and book the flights from Vegas to San Francisco. When I return from my stroll around Monterey's clean and humble town centre it has become clear that we are in for a very hot day. We climb into 'the beast', which is almost on fire, but then realise we have left something in one of the rooms. The owner of the motel has gone to lunch or some such, so we rely on the trust of the
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