Our cousin Pam was 18. I was 11, my sister 7. Two other cousins 12 and 10. Pam owned a mustard colored British MG. Summer visit she put the top down and we flew along country roads, hair knot-twisting in the wind.
She bought us ice cream cones! We sat in a row across the back, bare feet in the leather seats. Don’t drip any of that on my car! she threatened.
She had streaked blond hair and an easy laugh. Cold ice cream melted on my tongue in long hot sun. Eighteen couldn’t come fast enough.
