you," Sam said.
Shells reached for her tea and took her first sip, which she almost instantly spit out. "Holy crap!" she said. "How much sugar did you put in that? It's like 12-ounces of diabetic shock."
"You two aren't from around here, are you?"
"You could say that," Sam admitted, and those who were still watching them nodded their heads knowingly.
"I guess we stick out a little, huh?" Shells asked.
"The only way you could stick out more would be if I set you on fire," Sam said.
"It ain't that bad," the woman said. "It's pretty easy to pick out folks from the north. Y'all just have a different way of talking is all."
"How far are we from Lake Lure?" Sam asked.
"It's just over yonder," the waitress said, and Shells groaned; a look from Sam kept her quiet for a change.
"Let's go yonder, youngin'" Shells said after they had finished their meal and left a generous tip for the waitress. Once back in the car, Shells brought up Dio's The Last in Line and cranked the volume. The guitars were just hitting when Sam gunned it and roared back onto highway 64. Folks who had been chatting or rocking in the chairs outside of the store all watched as Sam and Shells sped away accompanied by heavy guitar. Sam could only imagine what they thought of the two of them. She didn't care.
The road was no longer straight, and the curves became more frequent and tighter. Sam had to pump the brake pedal to get them slowed enough in some places, and Shells cast her worried glances when it appeared the mirror might vibrate itself straight off the windshield.
"I think maybe we should get some more work done on the car," Shells said, her voice shaking as if she were speaking through a fan. Along with the twists and turns came sheer drops, and the guardrail seemed like precious little protection from the surely fatal fall.
"Agreed," Sam said, now driving much more slowly and anticipating each turn. Her car had never struggled so hard on the flat roads of New Jersey, but here every downhill run was something of an adventure. Aqua green water could be seen through the gaps in the trees and in pools at the bottom of winding cliffs. Then the trees opened up and gave them their first good view of Lake Lure, it was breathtaking. Still waters reflected the clouds and mountains surrounding it. With the exception of a few bald spots, deep green forests covered mountains that were more compact and dense than the sweeping mountains she knew in Virginia. These mountains seemed almost random in their shape, and the way they overlapped each other created a three-dimensional landscape filled with texture and light play. Sam had to keep her eyes on the winding road, which was made even more difficult by Shells pointing out every thing Sam shouldn't be looking at.
Boats cut the glasslike waters, and a water-skier looked to be having the time of his life. Jet skis buzzed near floating docks and red soil beach. A covered pontoon boat moved at a more leisurely pace, every seat onboard appearing to be full.
After crossing a two-lane bridge that seemed only wide enough for one and a half lanes, a sandy beach came into view. Bright red lifeguard stands stood at regular intervals along the sizable but finite beach. Water slides could be seen at the far end of the beach, and the parking areas were packed with motorcycles and other vehicles. As they looked around, it became apparent that this was a popular destination for motorcyclists. Many motorcycles packed the lots along the beach and the larger lots across the street, which stood alongside a stately building of white, with a roof the color of burnt umber. The place had a sense of age; its very stature declaring that it was the product of another time. The partly bald mountains behind it dwarfed the structure, and yet it stood its ground proudly.
A nearby restaurant's parking lot contained only motorcycles. They filled the lot and it didn't look like there was room for even a single car. The Margarita Grill,
Shells reached for her tea and took her first sip, which she almost instantly spit out. "Holy crap!" she said. "How much sugar did you put in that? It's like 12-ounces of diabetic shock."
"You two aren't from around here, are you?"
"You could say that," Sam admitted, and those who were still watching them nodded their heads knowingly.
"I guess we stick out a little, huh?" Shells asked.
"The only way you could stick out more would be if I set you on fire," Sam said.
"It ain't that bad," the woman said. "It's pretty easy to pick out folks from the north. Y'all just have a different way of talking is all."
"How far are we from Lake Lure?" Sam asked.
"It's just over yonder," the waitress said, and Shells groaned; a look from Sam kept her quiet for a change.
"Let's go yonder, youngin'" Shells said after they had finished their meal and left a generous tip for the waitress. Once back in the car, Shells brought up Dio's The Last in Line and cranked the volume. The guitars were just hitting when Sam gunned it and roared back onto highway 64. Folks who had been chatting or rocking in the chairs outside of the store all watched as Sam and Shells sped away accompanied by heavy guitar. Sam could only imagine what they thought of the two of them. She didn't care.
The road was no longer straight, and the curves became more frequent and tighter. Sam had to pump the brake pedal to get them slowed enough in some places, and Shells cast her worried glances when it appeared the mirror might vibrate itself straight off the windshield.
"I think maybe we should get some more work done on the car," Shells said, her voice shaking as if she were speaking through a fan. Along with the twists and turns came sheer drops, and the guardrail seemed like precious little protection from the surely fatal fall.
"Agreed," Sam said, now driving much more slowly and anticipating each turn. Her car had never struggled so hard on the flat roads of New Jersey, but here every downhill run was something of an adventure. Aqua green water could be seen through the gaps in the trees and in pools at the bottom of winding cliffs. Then the trees opened up and gave them their first good view of Lake Lure, it was breathtaking. Still waters reflected the clouds and mountains surrounding it. With the exception of a few bald spots, deep green forests covered mountains that were more compact and dense than the sweeping mountains she knew in Virginia. These mountains seemed almost random in their shape, and the way they overlapped each other created a three-dimensional landscape filled with texture and light play. Sam had to keep her eyes on the winding road, which was made even more difficult by Shells pointing out every thing Sam shouldn't be looking at.
Boats cut the glasslike waters, and a water-skier looked to be having the time of his life. Jet skis buzzed near floating docks and red soil beach. A covered pontoon boat moved at a more leisurely pace, every seat onboard appearing to be full.
After crossing a two-lane bridge that seemed only wide enough for one and a half lanes, a sandy beach came into view. Bright red lifeguard stands stood at regular intervals along the sizable but finite beach. Water slides could be seen at the far end of the beach, and the parking areas were packed with motorcycles and other vehicles. As they looked around, it became apparent that this was a popular destination for motorcyclists. Many motorcycles packed the lots along the beach and the larger lots across the street, which stood alongside a stately building of white, with a roof the color of burnt umber. The place had a sense of age; its very stature declaring that it was the product of another time. The partly bald mountains behind it dwarfed the structure, and yet it stood its ground proudly.
A nearby restaurant's parking lot contained only motorcycles. They filled the lot and it didn't look like there was room for even a single car. The Margarita Grill,
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