I was driving my cab through the parking lot of a monstrous apartment complex yesterday trying to scan the apartment numbers. Where the hell was building 78? Jesus Christ. You can’t see shit in this headache desert sun. I drove over a speed bump. It was squishy and soft and the bottom of the cab dragged over it. I thought: fuck, do I have a flat tire? Is that speed bump melting from the 109-degree heat? I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a couple of Mexicans running out of an apartment and looking at me angrily. I had driven right over a long roll of carpeting that they had laid out on the pavement. Lo siento, hombres!


This is an excerpt from Mather Schneider’s new memoir, 6 to 6. You can purchase the book from Terror House Press here.