Foreword
First off, let me state that I often hung out with the author from the late ‘70s through the early ‘90s on the eastside of Charlotte. Back then I lived in Easthaven, the neighborhood across the creek from his. It was just a ten-minute walk or a three-minute car drive to his house in Idlewild Farms. I still remember the route: Dawnwood – Helmdale – Idlebrook – Hillborn – Powder Horn. Yes, Powder Horn Road – what a name. I guess the developer’s street-namer must have been a fan of cowboys-and-Indians movies. Well, who knows?
I am also fairly certain that I hung out on several occasions with the Frank character prominently featured in this tale. I’m sure that one of those times was at Morrow Mountain.
Well, obviously, I wasn’t fortunate enough to make the excursion chronicled in this novella, as neither of these slackers called me the night before the adventure took place. However, I could picture each of the scenes very well; I felt like I was there with them. It was certainly an escapade in which I could imagine Mike and this Frank guy partaking.
Upon my first reading of this novella, I assumed that the Frank character was one common friend or acquaintance. However, on second read, he seems to be a composite of two guys from that late 1970s / early 1980s era, who both have sadly left this mortal coil.
Well, whatever the case, may their souls or his soul rest in eternal peace. That Frank character was certainly a one-of-a-kind guy. Someone who you just can’t forget.