3
The narrow highway wound through rolling green hills. The sign up ahead read, “Hocking Hills State Park.” Bones breathed a sigh of relief, shifted uncomfortably, and turned to the Maddock.
“Did you show the rental car lady your junk, Maddock?”
Dane Maddock shot a confused glance at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“I figured you must have, because she gave you a tiny car to match.”
Maddock smirked. “It’s not my fault you’re too abnormally large for normal modes of transportation.”
Bones chuckled. “The ladies like my abnormal largeness.”
“Never mind, Bones.” Maddock turned up the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s rough voice drowning out the big Cherokee’s wisecracks.
Bones reached over and turned down the radio.
“Enough with the white people music,” he said.
“I thought you o
