Chapter 12
The air hung heavy with the invigorating scents of fish and loam pouring off the sun-splashed Susquehanna River, underscored by the manmade aromas of exhaust fumes from numerous cabs and jet fuel, thanks to the small yet bustling Harrisburg International Airport. Earlier that Tuesday morning, Ford and I had boarded the plane that would whisk us to Pennsylvania, and now we stood with overnight bags in hand, hailing a taxi that would transport us to the corporate office of Brighton Breeze Fruit Drinks.
The taxi driver steered past Penn State University, then headed east on the turnpike, away from the state capitol’s downtown district and toward wide-open farmland, dandelion-riddled fields, and tree-clad hills. All the while, Ford and I stared out the windows and said little to e
