It was a sunny Sunday morning; the spring breeze was evident all around, the kind that says summer in on the way. My best friend called and offered to take me rock climbing up at Indian Hills, I was thrilled but timid. Waiting with anticipation I could hear the sound of his car coming, it was distinct in its own way because the muffler was on its last leg. He arrived in style, no not really. The paint of his car was peeling off and the smell of the exhaust filled the air with a horrible aroma. Every time I got in his car I felt embarrassed, but it was all right because he was the only one who could drive.
As we started up the 225 Highway we were following traffic along the twisting, turning road. Suddenly my best friend cursed under his breath. I looked at him surprisingly and asked, "What's wrong?" He started to laugh, took his foot off the accelerator, hit the brakes, and said "Didn't you see that state trooper?" I nodded, "Well we were going 85 up this road," he said. Luckily we were not the only cars on the road. …
