Travels with Par

If you've never taken a two-and-a-half hour ride in an old Dodge truck with its blue paint faded and chipping, it can be hard to imagine. Suspension is nonexistent, while every component of the vehicle loose or not rattles with such ferocity that one might be forgiven for imagining oneself inside a bass drum being rolled down a hill while a two year old happily bashes away on the outside. The intoxicating aroma of dog and oily rag makes such a method of travel something of an acquired taste. Sunlight beating on the grimy windows made the dust motes in the air shine like fairy lights. I might have started out showered and clean that morning, but by the time Pa and I got to Rylstone no one would know that the tan on my lily-white legs was caused by the thin layer of dirt that coated everything in the truck; but next to Pa, I was always as pale as chalk on a blackboard. His hair, a salt and pepper mix of wild, wiry curls peeked out from around the brim of his hat, adding to the rugged look of his hard-worn, wrinkled face. His skin was a dark chocolate brown from a lifetime of working in, to me, unimaginable conditions.

Dettagli