The Straight-away is the longest lineal stretch of road in Shoreacres, where speed bumps do little to dissuade teenage boys in first cars from pressing down on gas pedals.
At the end of this tempting strip of asphalt, with the sun rising at my back, throwing orange and pink and unreasonable beauty into the gloomy school day scene, is the bus stop.
It is here, from autumn to early summer, I watch for the giant, yellow monster to come into view as it makes the turn at the top of the Straight-Away.
Praying often that I missed it, or it won’t appear, and Mom has to drive me to school.
Offering a morning’s reprieve from school bus bullies.
And a chance to gobble up freshly made donuts from the truck stop along the way.
Dog-eared Stories by anne celano frohna 