Getting There
I figured it was about a four hour drive, most of it on the Interstate, to Camp Hoyle, where my son is stationed. Kevin had a weekend pass and invited us up to see the place and maybe do some fishing. I had our gear in the big chest back in the bed of my pickup. The day was warm and sunny, but not too hot. Good for driving. We had the windows cranked down—no AC in my old Dodge—and a nice breeze blew through the cab. "Are we almost there yet?" Jill said. She smiled impishly and tossed her...