Work with the things you find in your car (or a friend’s car if you don’t have one).
It was the summer of my dreams, a boy, a dog, a glove box full of cash and drugs, my beat up Volkswagen and the open road. The wind ruffled through my long hair immersing every aspect of my body and soul. I felt exhilarated, free, and care free. As much as I could be with 40 grand of college debt and only as much cash as was stuffed in my glove box behind me.
The boy in my passenger seat winked at me when I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His emerald eyes like a rare gem emanating desire. Did he really love me?
The dog hung its head out the window. It’s tongue flopped out the side of his mouth and his ears mimicked my hair and flapped in the wind. It must be nice to be a dog.
We were driving west. Road trip. Desire for something new, obscure, different. Part of me knew we would never find it, but we still had to dream. We weren’t too old for that yet. So that summer we let our dreams keep us young.
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