Mav And — Joey

They don't know where they are going. For the first time in a long time, for both of them, that is the point.

Joey nods. "Also, we hate the same things. People who speed up at yellow lights. Celery. And anyone who says 'it is what it is.'" mav and joey

Joey grins at the memory. "I thought he was a cop for a second. But then he offered me a sandwich. Never say no to a free sandwich." They don't know where they are going

Mav believes in planning. He has spreadsheets for gas mileage and a binder full of paper maps. Joey believes in vibes. He navigates by the position of the sun and the name of the last town that sounded cool. "Also, we hate the same things

"Mav yells at me when I leave the door open because of the 'climate loss,'" Joey says, using air quotes. "But last week, when a tire blew out at 2 a.m., he didn't yell. He just handed me the jack and said, 'Turn left to loosen.' He trusts me with the heavy stuff."

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"He didn't look like much," Mav recalls, wiping grease off his hands. "Baggy hoodie, looking at his phone like it owed him money. But I needed a push, and he had two working arms."