Before my brother Rick left home that spring he tried to tell me something but I couldn't hear what he was saying. This was on account of the fact he liked the noise of a Harley Roadster but could only afford a secondhand Honda Scrambler. So he removed the muffler. And what he was doing then was quitting high school to escape the musty basement room we shared in Maine for the endless coast of Florida via Rout 1. He was going with his best friend Jimmy Taylor. JT for short. Rick was Crawdad. It was 1979 and everything was brown and orange and when I think about this now I think I've figured out what Rick was telling me as he warmed up his motorcycle. What my brother said was, "Leave."
Booth: Vol. 3
, Article 3.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/booth/vol3/iss12/3