By Margaret Gouldsbury
Published by Margaret Gouldsbury at Smashwords
Hot dry air blew into the open window of the old van causing little beads of perspiration to appear on the young men's' handsome faces. It felt as if they were standing too close to a blast furnace or being cooked alive on a rotisserie. The air conditioning squeaked and moaned like a sick animal on its last leg it forced steamy air through its vents instead of refreshing cool air.
Clint Whitehall sat stoically behind the wheel ignoring the heat or the constant complaints of his friend Nick Davis, who sat morosely in the passenger seat. He thought back to the day they decided to take this trip. It was a rainy afternoon, lazy and slow, a Sunday to be exact. They could not play football or hang around the basketball court so they sat watching old movies, drinking beers and just plain goofing off.