ambitious to get married, or to follow him to California. And Gary, himself, had not been ready for any kind of permanent commitment. The romance ended the day he boarded a plane for Los Angeles. He had not seen her since.
The echoes of Alice had reverberated for the first two years he was in California. He compared all the girls to her and found them wanting. He had bouts of living like a monk and at times verged on depression. Even after he got his dating act together, he had not found any fish worth keeping. He had thrown them all back. These failures had led him to join Human Inventory. It was one of the smartest things he had ever done.
“Viewpoint for the dam ahead.” Penny brought him out of his reverie.
He turned the car in the direction the sign indicated, and they were soon sitting at the foot of the largest concrete structure in the world—producer of hydroelectric power, irrigator of farmland.
“Darn this rain,” Penny said. “We’ll melt if we go out there. We’ll just have to eat lunch in the car.”
Fortunately, they had plenty of food with them, including pineapple juice, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cookies, potato chips, and a can of peaches.
“ A feast fit for a king.” Gary was particularly addicted to potato chips and made sure he got his share.
“Look at that car over there. Except for the color, it’s just like mine.”
Gary directed his gaze at a 1959 Ford Fairlane parked about fifty yards away, whose occupants apparently were also looking at the dam. He couldn’t see who was inside the car. The two-tone, green and white model had wings that were less pronounced than those of the 1957 model had been. It looked stylish, but it was a gas hog. Which is why they had opted to drive his economical Volkswagen on this trip, even though Penny’s car, given to her by her parents, would hold a lot more baggage.
***
Alfred saw their car pull up to the viewpoint. He had guessed right about their destination, but he had parked far enough away so they wouldn’t see him inside his car. They didn’t know what his car looked like yet. It was just the car of another sightseer. He was safe for the moment. Soon they would know his car, but it would be because Penny was leaving in it with him.
He could sit here and plot his next move. The immediate problem was the rain. It was coming down in sheets, and they showed no inclination to get out of the VW. It must be cramped in that little car, especially with all the stuff they had in the backseat. He was glad he had the roominess of his Ford, even though buying gas for it was rapidly depleting his cash supply.
As long as Penny stayed in the VW, he wouldn’t be able to isolate her so that he could talk to her. He needed to catch her away from Gary. How could he do that? Alfred finished his lunch. Penny and Gary stayed in their car. Alfred thought about creating some sort of disturbance that would get their attention and separate the two of them long enough for him to do what he had to do. It was raining too hard.
While he dithered, time passed. Before he could come up with a workable plan, they drove away.
***
Penny wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did. The feeling was not one of terror, but the prelude to terror, when the hairs on the back of your neck tell you that something really bad is going to happen, but you’re not quite sure what it is. Why should she feel this way at a pleasant campground in Little Round Pond State Park near Sandpoint, Idaho?
They were cooking their dinner on the Coleman stove and contemplating camping here for the night. Gary was busy tending the stove and seemed to be as happy as a mouse sitting on a mountain of cheese. They had come through Spokane, Washington, in intermittent rain and then crossed into Idaho. At Coeur d’Alene they had purchased some groceries and then headed north through beautiful scenery—trees, hills, the occasional lake. One thing the U.S.A. had in abundance was beautiful
The echoes of Alice had reverberated for the first two years he was in California. He compared all the girls to her and found them wanting. He had bouts of living like a monk and at times verged on depression. Even after he got his dating act together, he had not found any fish worth keeping. He had thrown them all back. These failures had led him to join Human Inventory. It was one of the smartest things he had ever done.
“Viewpoint for the dam ahead.” Penny brought him out of his reverie.
He turned the car in the direction the sign indicated, and they were soon sitting at the foot of the largest concrete structure in the world—producer of hydroelectric power, irrigator of farmland.
“Darn this rain,” Penny said. “We’ll melt if we go out there. We’ll just have to eat lunch in the car.”
Fortunately, they had plenty of food with them, including pineapple juice, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cookies, potato chips, and a can of peaches.
“ A feast fit for a king.” Gary was particularly addicted to potato chips and made sure he got his share.
“Look at that car over there. Except for the color, it’s just like mine.”
Gary directed his gaze at a 1959 Ford Fairlane parked about fifty yards away, whose occupants apparently were also looking at the dam. He couldn’t see who was inside the car. The two-tone, green and white model had wings that were less pronounced than those of the 1957 model had been. It looked stylish, but it was a gas hog. Which is why they had opted to drive his economical Volkswagen on this trip, even though Penny’s car, given to her by her parents, would hold a lot more baggage.
***
Alfred saw their car pull up to the viewpoint. He had guessed right about their destination, but he had parked far enough away so they wouldn’t see him inside his car. They didn’t know what his car looked like yet. It was just the car of another sightseer. He was safe for the moment. Soon they would know his car, but it would be because Penny was leaving in it with him.
He could sit here and plot his next move. The immediate problem was the rain. It was coming down in sheets, and they showed no inclination to get out of the VW. It must be cramped in that little car, especially with all the stuff they had in the backseat. He was glad he had the roominess of his Ford, even though buying gas for it was rapidly depleting his cash supply.
As long as Penny stayed in the VW, he wouldn’t be able to isolate her so that he could talk to her. He needed to catch her away from Gary. How could he do that? Alfred finished his lunch. Penny and Gary stayed in their car. Alfred thought about creating some sort of disturbance that would get their attention and separate the two of them long enough for him to do what he had to do. It was raining too hard.
While he dithered, time passed. Before he could come up with a workable plan, they drove away.
***
Penny wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did. The feeling was not one of terror, but the prelude to terror, when the hairs on the back of your neck tell you that something really bad is going to happen, but you’re not quite sure what it is. Why should she feel this way at a pleasant campground in Little Round Pond State Park near Sandpoint, Idaho?
They were cooking their dinner on the Coleman stove and contemplating camping here for the night. Gary was busy tending the stove and seemed to be as happy as a mouse sitting on a mountain of cheese. They had come through Spokane, Washington, in intermittent rain and then crossed into Idaho. At Coeur d’Alene they had purchased some groceries and then headed north through beautiful scenery—trees, hills, the occasional lake. One thing the U.S.A. had in abundance was beautiful
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