Last.

March 19, Frisco.

We moved last night. The tire truck Fridman drives blew a tire and Lesley, the guy who drives the mechanics' truck, had gone way ahead of us, as he does every time, so we had to wait forever for him, until Fridman and Castro grew tired of waiting and looked in our truck and found what they needed to do the work and we could go on.
It was one thirty in the morning before we arrived, and we got parked in the dirt, not on the cement lot where everybody else is, "cast off" for doing our job, being the last ones to get to the lot.
As usual we're laughing it off.