Dad started the car - or what we use to call his old Ford F-1000 truck, Baby Blue - and we left the campsite. But this time, there were a shotgun and two 9mm pistols on the front seat.

Baby Blue always had this weird smell, ever since I was little. Only at around thirteen I noticed it came from the whiskey flask on the glove compartment. It was a really cheap lookin' flask, that kept leaking all over the papers and the fabric, and it would just stay there for months at a time. Mom kept trying to hide the smell with some cheap air fresheners, so that their parents wouldn't notice when we all went to church on sundays.

Since then, my grandparents died, mom has done left and we haven't been to church in years.

"Have I ever told you how the ol' truck got her name?" Dad asked. 

I've probably been told that story more times than my own last name. But there wasn't any reason why I couldn't humor him a bit.

"You know what, I might've, but I'm not so sure I remember it all..." I said.

"Alright," he gave this great big smile. "For months I'd been trying to go out on a date with your mother, you see? She was the most beautiful young woman that ever walked this land. Except for you, of course."

I gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and we both giggled.

"But you know, Evelyn wasn't so hot about going on that date. She thought I was some kind of a no-good brawler or something. I had a bit of a reputation back then."

"Back then, you say?"

"Watch out, young lady." He gave me a fake stern look and continued. "I borrowed my old man's keys, you see, 'cause we already had the truck for a few years. I learned how to drive in it and everything. Now, I didn't know much about Evelyn, except she use to wear this old Aerosmith shirt everywhere. So I bought that "Just Push Play" tape and asked if she wanted to hear it with me. It had just come out and apparently she'd never listen to it before. We bought some burgers and sodas and parked near the swimming hole next to her house. She wanted to play that song Jaded over and over again, and I was worried that it could kill the car battery. It was a little annoying, really. But after that one line, you know, 'Bye bye baby blue...’"

He stopped laughing for a microsecond and I could see the melancholy starting to show.

"She said that my car should be called Baby Blue, cause it was so old that after a few more miles, it would certainly go bye-bye. I thought I should get a little offended, but right after that she kissed me. It's pretty hard to dislike someone like that."

"And mom was wrong, too, cause here we are. Baby Blue is still kicking ass."

"Yeah..."

He used to do the same thing whenever he mentioned mom. Stop talking immediately whenever he felt that lump in his throat. That didn't seem healthy at all, but there was no way of getting dad to actually vent about his frustrations. He was undeniably a product of the southern chauvinism.

When the city started to show up in the horizon, dad switched off the de-cocker lever on his pistol:

“Are you ready, sweeatheart?”