Harlow"Come on, baby," I begged my 1972 Pontiac GTO. I peered around for a sign of civilization, but the last rest stop I'd seen was at least fifty miles back. It was dark in the New Mexico desert, and it was beginning to feel like mine was the only car on the highway. The squealing noise under the hood was only getting louder."Gnaw Bone – 4 miles" a bullethole-ridden sign read. In my twenty-one years, I'd never heard of a stranger town name, but it appeared to be my only saving grace at that moment."Just four more miles. You can do it." I tapped the steering wheel lovingly. But mere seconds later, the emergency battery light came on. "Crap." Then the car slowed despite my foot on the gas pedal. "Well, screw you, too," I sneered as I guided the car over to the side of the road and put it into park. "Please don't be the alternator," I said, even though that was where all signs pointed.With a huff, I turned the ignition off then tried restarting, but the car was dead. I flipped
Last Updated : 2022-09-17 Read more