We were not destined to see the wonders of Finch Hollow on that day in July. Finch Hollow was an environmental resource center.  When we got there we were to take a tour through the facility first.  The facility with its many rooms each dedicated to American historical events and cultures.  There was the Native American room, with its dug-out canoes, and replica model size long houses.  Other rooms contained rare birds or animals that were stuffed, such as the yellow spotted owl whose dark enveloping eyes seemed to follow with the intensity of the predator identifying you as its prey.  Later we were to have gone outside to eat our paper bag lunches of peanut butter fluff sandwiches and apples—that I would furtively trade with my sister for a bag of her chips.  My ever so gullible sister with her simple lopsided grin.  I, of course, did so by convincing her that not only did apples taste better, but would make you more intelligent if you ate them. This worked despite the fact that she hated apples and there was nothing in the world that could make her smarter 

Soon we would have begun to walk the woods trail, peering into the streams for salamanders, the trees for flying squirrels—that I so lovingly cherished—because they made my sister scream till precious tears to begin rolling down her cheeks.  After the walk we would tiredly return to the car to head home exited and happy to carry memories of our day with grandma always. 

Many unknown factors could have brought this trip to an abrupt end before it ever began.  Factors such as, flat tires, my sister or I getting sick, or misbehaving possibly even a cloud of steam leaking from underneath the hood, the sweet smell of Preston permeating the air.  It was not these that kept us from Finch Hollow that day, no it was a cobalt blue Lincoln Continental, with two large white die hanging from the mirror, and blue smoke coming from the tail pipe.  At least that was the car Cleo Anne Gilbert—my father’s mother—described to my parents and the multitude of police officers some time after 2:30pm. 

Bobbi called to her with her usual “take me,” both arms raised fingers flashing.