Tantric Coconuts Read Free Page B

I’ll put a toolbox together for you. Get car insurance and, when you’re ready, you and No Barks go and see what you can find in America. Perhaps there is something there you can fix.”
    Angel hugged her father. “Thank you,
Age
. You’re the best!”
    After Larsen finished his lunch, he decided to write to Aunt Lilly at the correctional facility. He had talked to her twice since her incarceration. She was not able to make bond, so she would remain in Pierre until the trial, which was many months away. She did not like the court-appointed lawyer who tried so hard to convince her that dreams were not legal defenses. Larsen would tell Lilly about Angel’s journey and see if there was anything he could do to help her.

3
    Anticipating his vacation foray into nature and the twelve-hour drive to New Mexico, Ted packed flea powder for Argo and car-sick medicine for himself. Before getting on Highway 56 to head southwest, he pulled into the Four Corners Convenience Station, filled the gas tank, and checked the oil and tire pressure. While the tank slowly filled, he adjusted the position of a piece of yellow ruled paper that was taped to the dash. At the top of the page, it read:
    What to do on vacation!
    According to several of the guidebooks he had purchased, Santa Fe, New Mexico, and its environs offered many excellent, canine-friendly activities, including hiking and superb fly-fishing. Also carefully detailed, below his list of activities, were directions and the names of several recommended RV sites along his route.
    List making and other precautions resulted in a late departure from Crossing Trails. Strong winds dropped out of an otherwise clear sky and pushed forcefully against the tallprofile of the RV. The safe practice was to drive a little more slowly. By seven o’clock that evening, the sun was getting low in the sky and Ted was an hour behind schedule. Confusing Argo with someone who cared, Ted announced, “It’s going to be dark soon. We need to find the next RV park.”
    The old terrier lifted his jaw an inch off the floor, yawned, and went back to sleep.
    About fifteen minutes later the entrance to one of Ted’s approved campgrounds, Perfect Prairie RV Park, unexpectedly and without the least warning, sprang up in front of Ted. As he closed in on the entrance, Ted considered passing it, turning around at the next opportunity, coming back, and making a proper turn from the opposite direction. That was not, however, the choice Ted made. Instead he pushed the brake pedal hard and began his turn. The setting sun’s glare on his windshield made it hard for him to see far down the road.
    At about the same time a camouflaged, flying tanklike structure came barreling toward him.
    Panicked, Ted let out a “Yikes!” yanked the steering wheel even harder to the left, accelerated into the turn, and gambled that the strange vehicle would yield and the Chieftain wouldn’t tip.

    Angel was onto something big—driving seventy miles an hour in a decrepit bookmobile while doing meditations tothe sound of Lakota drum music—when she realized that she too had missed her turn. Believing there is purpose behind all things, she just drove on. Adventure lay on the unknown road. This is how she found herself driving east in a very remote corner of New Mexico in Bertha the Bookmobile. No Barks was sleeping beside her on an old piece of buffalo hide that Aunt Lilly had used for a curtain to block out the glare from the western sun as it flared and disappeared behind the Black Hills.
    Angel, concentrating on the reduction of her alpha waves, was a bit slow to react to the lumbering vehicle that turned in front of her. When she noticed the Winnebago at twelve o’clock high, she applied her brakes hard. Bertha was as nimble as a Sherman tank. At nearly twice the weight of the Chieftain and with momentum at the reins, Bertha emerged the clear victor in the collision that followed.

4
    When Ted finally brought the Winnebago to a