A two-hour drive unraveled for us from Boardman to Columbus. We headed southwest, parallel to Interstate 80, arriving in Columbus at approximate ten o’clock that evening. It started raining again, pounding down from the heavens and bashing the ground. Hail fell with the rain, pinging against the Caddy’s hood. At one point, it sounded like bullets from a .22 rifle.
No matter how much rain fell, Sander didn’t wake up, catatonic and motionless. He snored occasionally while passed out. At the corner of my right eye, I could see his chest rise and fall, somewhat rhythmically and with a fine cadence.
The city of Columbus lacked hills, style, and anything nice to look at. I had never called it one of my favorites, like Pittsburgh. I couldn’t appreciate anything in the town, familiar with its in
