I held the steering wheel firmly, feeling the tires respond to the changes in the road. I thought briefly of how worn the tires were, then dismissed the thought. My hair stung my face as the wind whipped through the car and I could feel the blunt ends left by a recent trim. George Benson emitted soothing melodies from the cassette deck that escaped through the open windows, passed into the air and ran down the sides of the mountain into the stream that came to view…
