name of the plumber on Palomar Mountain. I called
information. My heart raced. The plumber remembered who I was.

"Do you need an apprentice?" I asked in a strained whisper.

"Well, come to think of it," he said, "I could use some help. But
weren't you going to finish college?"

"I think I need to take a break for awhile," I admitted.

"I understand. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come on out and
we'll talk it over."

I wrote down directions, thanked him, and returned to my room. I
wanted to say good-bye to my friends in the Centre, but I knew that in
the interest of "saving" me, they would tell Atmananda. And I knew too
well that he had a knack for persuading borderline disciples not to
leave. So, wishing the disciples well on their journey, I kept my plan
secret. I wished Atmananda well on his journey, too. Each time I
thought of him, though, I broke out in a cold sweat.

My plan was to hitchhike that night to Palomar Mountain. I stuffed
some gear in my backpack, which I kept hidden in the closet. I was
ready. The sun was starting to set. "It's okay, man," I thought,
hugging myself. I was frightened.

Suddenly the bell rang. I remained in my room. Atmananda answered the
door. It was Sal.

I heard Atmananda shout, "Salitos, take out the hot sauce!"

"Yowwwww!" I heard them yell moments later.

I opened the door to my room and saw them hopping around the kitchen.
For a moment I felt nostalgic. Drinking hot sauce and hopping around
with Atmananda had been one of my favorite experiences in the Centre.
Returning to my room, I quietly closed the door and tried to ignore
them. I imagined that I was living on Palomar Mountain by a clearing
in the forest. I imagined the brilliant California sun as it pierced
the thick morning fog below. I imagined the solitary red-tailed hawk
as it soared through the clear, blue, mountain sky on a course of its...

The door flew open and in strode Atmananda. He took giant steps. He
was followed by Sal.

"Heyyy, Sal!" Atmananda blasted. "Da baby, he'sa thinkin'-a leavin'!"

"Baby," queried Sal, "you thinkin'-a leavin'?"

"Gespacho," cried Atmananda, not waiting for my reply, "where have-a
you been?"

"With-a Guacamole!" shouted Sal.

I was stunned. "How... how did they find out?" I thought.

They danced about the room singing about Guacamole, a young maiden who
blushed bright green.

I did not know whether to laugh or to cry. I was doing