You do not know how long you have left in this world. You may never
see the ocean again in this lifetime. You should say good-bye."
It was a poignant moment for me. I loved the ocean.
"Good-bye," I thought. Then Rama strode to his Turbo Carerra.
It no longer bothered me that Rama owned two Porsches at a time
when many disciples were struggling to meet the increasing tuition.
If he got what he wanted, I figured, maybe he'd go easy on us during
the scorching demon-and-brimstone monologues. Besides, at three
a.m. in northern Malibu, he once took me over one hundred and
twenty miles an hour. The acceleration had been breathtaking;
the ride, smooth.
The disciples now turned from the ocean to their cars.
Anne, Dana, and I walked to our gifts from Rama--two Mazda
RX-7's and a Honda Civic Wagon, respectively. Then we drove
east by northeast into Los Angeles, the high desert, and southern Nevada.
Rama had divided us into four groups, with three cars per group
and two or three disciples per car. The groups caravanned separately,
and we met two or three times a day, typically at a Denny's restaurant
or at a Best Western motel. I rode with Alexander, a spare,
devout UCSD recruit who had impressed the Centre with his ability
to place second or third in a marathon.
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