Блокнот на спирали "Fresh Fruit Strawberry", 100 листов, клетка

I now know this never happened, but his colorful fiction planted a seed in my soul. I wanted to live this same adventure. I wanted to fly. Every year or two my dad would be transferred to another base and like Bedouin tribesmen we would pull up stakes and head for a new horizon. Locales in Kansas, Georgia, Florida, Texas, Mississippi, and Hawaii would ultimately boast a Hugh J. Mullane mailbox. For me every move was eagerly anticipated. I couldnБЂ™t wait for the moving van to drive away and a new adventure to start. Curled in a blanket in the back of a car, like puppies in a basket, my brothers and I would fall asleep to the rhythmicthump-thump-thump of the pavement. It was the heartbeat of anticipation, of the unknown. Sometimes I would awake in the middle of the night and savor the smells of a new climate or watch lightning flash in the distance. During the day weБЂ™d stop at weathered signs advertising fresh fruit and buy buckets of ice-cold sweet cherries. WeБЂ™d stop at gas stations with signs reading, БЂњLast gas for 100 miles.БЂ«I would watch my dad fill a canvas bag with water and hang it over the Indian-head hood ornament of our Pontiac station wagon ...»