Bambi Lake, Riding the Madness

A rusted-out Trans Am pulled up beside me on the street, and Bambi Lake stuck her upper half out the passenger window, like a mermaid on the front of a pirate ship.

“We’re going to MEXICO!” she squealed. I could see the meth in her eyes, I knew where she was living in that moment. The car rumbled off.

I was pushing 40, sober about seven years, trying to reassemble my body and my finances after years of abuse. Bambi was in her late 50s, and still going that hard.