My father owned a green Ford Arrow Star van.

It was a piece of jump.

The power steering wind when he made turns.

The engine ticked and it was slow.

But he was able to keep it running, and this was our

main mode of transportation in Manitoba. And in Manitoba, it takes hours to get anywhere.

I was a kid then, and I remember that we did a lot of traveling in that van. I don't know where we went or while we traveled that much.

I guess it was my father's business.

I just remember driving down long highways for hours during the day and late at night.

It had to have been two or three in the morning on one of these trips, while we went as fast

as the van would take us down a dark highway, lined with dead pines on both sides.

The area is referred to as the sticks here in Manitoba.

It's a spooky place to be in the daylight, much less in the dark.

My head rested on the passenger door as we listened to loud music.

My father always had the volume loud.

He loved good music.

I was used to it, so I sat there in a numb state watching the dead pines fly by and the glow

of the headlights.

My ear was close to the window and I could faintly hear footsteps crunching in the gravel.

I figured it was part of the music, but the noise continued between the songs.

Whatever this noise was, it was running and keeping pace with the car.

We were about to enter and drive through riding Mountain State Park where the speed limit

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