The truck whizzed by the shoulder, and a particularly nasty blast of road spray hit me square in the face, dripping down my jacket, my shorts, and into my shoes. I didn’t mind the wet, really, because I was already soaked. It was more the humiliation factor. I tried not to care and instead turned around and looked at Dad, who was walking behind me. The spray had gotten him, too, and all we could do was laugh, ...
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