I fell to my knees, drained, ravenous, and blistered. I kissed the car door’s flat surface and nuzzled the chrome handles.
A mere two hours driving time took more than two weeks to hike. The Appalachian Trail had not made a man out of me; it whipped my metrosexual hiney.
K. Bond holds a BBA and draws on experience in business writing to entertain readers. Her writing appears in Residential Aliens and Johnny America, among other places.