It was always a drag, driving across the country. Our big white van would get messy fast with potato chip crumbs and Big Red wrappers, and every so often we would stop to wipe the windshield clean of all the murdered flying bugs. The radio was hard to listen to, considering the static we picked up on those long rural roads, and that double disc Forest Gump Soundtrack got old after the first one hundred miles. Elongating the ride, were the bumpy streets, heavy rain, and my treasure hungry dad who felt it necessary to make frequent stops in all the little off-the-highway towns, with hopes of finding some Native-American riches.
From a small Country Donuts stand at the end of one of his pit-stops, I purchased a freshly fried coco-iced cake puff accompanied by a Fieldcrest Farms skim milk carton. I figured the milk would help wash the donut down nicely as well as aid my thirst. Half the donut was gone by the time I opened the carton, and without hesitation, I threw my head so my nose was staring at the fuzzy car ceiling, and dumped that milk right down the back of my throat excited for the crisp chilled liquid when... $%