The drive conversation died down considerably with the battering of the wind against their eardrums, making their voices a tick in a pack of wolves. Joseph would occasionally point, and Scott would take the directions to heart. Winding dirt roads never seemed to end. The young man let his foot off the gas slowly, hovering the race of the engine until it came to an idle speed that crawled along the countryside. The cab became much quieter and was more akin to a turn of the century wagon than one with the power of hundreds of horses.
“Still familiar, Scott?” Joseph did not want the quiet to become uncomfortable for the young man, a man from a group of young people who always seemed to need to be talking or they would be overcome with nervousness.
“Takes me back to when I’d drive around wit
