1959… Modoc County, California
Cruising down a rutted farm road. Clinging for dear life to the hood of a ’48 Mercury… engine purring, one of those Moon footprint gas pedals on the floor. Searching for rabbits, frozen in their tracks by blare of the headlights piercing our way through the darkness. I’m scared, cold, excited and have never seen ‘so many stars come out at night’.
I blast away with the 10 gauge… it’s a wonder I don’t fly off the Merc. I didn’t hit any that night.
What else would you expect from a city slicker?
This story is a contribution to Friday Flash Fictioneers… see what it’s all about @ Madison Woods and read the many takes on her photo prompt.