In Chapter VIII Giles and Kate part ways with a kiss and Giles rides off into the Great Wide Open of the American West to seek his destiny.

Monday, July 12th, Chicago, IL to Orfordville, WI. We woke up late, the sun baking us through the back window in Dean's room and illuminating the scrawled blue-dog-on-green-field painting that hung from the second hand easel. I crawled on top of Kate and held her head in my hands and stared at her.
    "So this is it," I said. "My last licks."
    "Don't go," she said. "Stay one more day."
    "If I stay we'll have to do what we're doing now tomorrow. It'll just get worse."

    "Hey pop."

    "Hey G."
    "Any news?"

    "Not yet. They'll call sometime this afternoon."
    "How're you holding up?"
    "I'm alright," he said. "It'll be better once we know. I'd rather just deal with it than wonder about it."
    "Yeah. Well I just wanted to call and check in. I'm about to ride out of Chicago."
    "What's Chicago like these days?"
    "I don't know," I said. "Seems pretty cool. More affordable than most places and a lot of young people."
    "Careful. They're all from the Midwest. You can't trust those people."
    I laughed.
    "Yeah, well. You can't trust anybody."
    "Ain't that the truth. Can't even trust your gut."

My given name is John Giles Reynolds Morris, after John Giles Reynolds, a great great on my dad's side. He was blinded at the battle of Cold Harbor during the siege of Richmond. Sheila is the only one who calls me John Giles. It started when she was cross with me as a little kid and now it is in fun.
    "Hi there."
    Eric ambled out with his bemused grin, his pipe clamped in the side of his teeth, his eyes searching the bike out.
    "What do we have here?"
    "It's an old Honda Nighthawk."
    "Hmm. Doesn't look too dangerous. Or pretty for that matter."
    "It works really good."