Run, Lola, Run

WE MET IN A SAFEWAY PARKING LOT in Anacortes, Washington. I was a recent college graduate—homeless, transitory, ready to explore the West, and in need of some wheels. She was a middle-aged emerald-green beauty with a moonroof. It was the Fourth of July. I named her Lola America. I wasn’t sure I could actually afford the monthly payments, and I didn’t know where I was going to be in a matter