Prologue
The hazy red sphere lifted above the brown cattails, pin oaks, and dead sycamores on the eastern edge of Bradner Pond in Northern Ohio. It reflected in the rear window of the rusting hulk of the 1927 model A Ford. The passenger door, the rear fenders and the cloth roof had abandoned the rusted out, black four door sedan years ago. The rubber tires had rotted. The front end rested on what remained of the rims. The rear axle rested somewhat precariously on rocks rolled from a nearby field to keep the rear wheel rims off the ground.
“Tequila” by the Champs ripped the cool stillness of the morning, as the teens worked feverishly wrapping the frayed rope around the right rear rim of the old Model A Ford. To be truthful the the rope was rope in name only. The boys had actually pieced together the “rope” from clothes line and binder twine. They had modified the rim so that it would hold two hundred yards of the rope which now stretched across the dark blue waters of the pond and disappeared into the tall grasses, brush and cattails. Chris, Mike and Eddie stepped back and admired their work.
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