This body has rattled out of joint; the used Renault is in better shape than I am. I’m glad to sleep in a room tonight, but I want to go back to that cold, steel cave, the back of the van where Prabhupada’s books are within arm’s reach, where the bed is stiff, and sleep is interrupted by truck lights, but where you are free. I don’t want to eryoy special prasadam or soft beds wherever I go, but I treasure the honor of being asked, “Will you give the Bhdgavatam class?”