Steinbeck sees many antique shops along his route north and east. He wonders where all the antiques come from, speculating that most of it is junk. He likes junk and is an avid collector himself of worthless items that may someday prove to be just what he needs to fix something. Idly pondering this, he wonders what would happen if people of the present day kept all their junk for generations until a period toaster would be worth significant money.
He takes a room in a motel outside Bangor. Everything except the bedding and curtains is made of plastic. He goes to the attached diner, and everything in there is made of plastic too, including the waitress' apron. She strikes him as a sad soul capable of sucking all the.....
