CHAPTER SIX
One early morning, I saw the yellow Ford again. No matter how down I was, she always stirred my heart. Unexpectedly, I found myself walking to her as if drawn to the world of hope she had always represented - a hope I no longer had but desperately wanted to find again.
It was now late August, so the weather was cooperating, although the nights had been cooler. We slept “under cover of moon,” as Joe described it. He gave me rolled up clothes from his bindle to use as a cushion for my head. I had snatched a blanket from home, and Leland taught me to cover myself with newspapers and grass to protect against the late-night temperature drop.
The camp dwellers had created a makeshift lean-to out of several old tarps tied to a spindly tree with rope and bungee cords. The opposite e
