The drive-it-yourself moving truck stalled on the Grapevine, the mountain pass stopping the San Joaquin from spilling into Los Angeles. Sweat rolled down the backs of the three passengers resigned to suffer the heat. The truck lacked air conditioning, so there was no need to complain. The truck belched through the stall as the driver pushed into the lowest gear and rolled at a burro’s pace as a parade of cars followed. A single horn, then others, squaked displeasure at the lack of speed. The driver aimed the truck for a turnout, wiped his face, and waved the parade around.
© 2018, Michael Shawn Sommermeyer. All rights reserved.
