On Saturdays sometimes I'd ride with Daddy to the store about five miles towards town. It took almost an hour each way. When the roads was muddy, it took more. The wagon wheels mired up in the red clay and the mules snorted loud gray clouds in the damp morning air like a old truck someone was trying to start. I swore to myself I'd get me a car when I was older, and get somewhere that had roads to drive it on. We winded through the woods that closed in on each side and finally came out into the open again near Silas Craven's general store. Some called it Craven's, but most called it Loafers Glory. It was where you got the news around there, sometimes from the newspaper you could buy there but generally from somebody's talk
Fiction: Holier
Than Thou | Main Map
Theory: Use of technology