It was another hot day on the farm; I still remember waking up covered in an uncomfortable sweat. I had been up for about half an hour and it was now somewhere around seven o'clock. I was sitting in the shadow of the barn where we had kept our tractor and other equipment. My dad was inside the heated barn attempting to get the old rusted tractor up and running. I had told him before he went in that it needed gas and he wasn't going to get it anywhere without any. I know he was smacking himself for not remembering to get any gasoline for the tractor when we went into town yesterday, but since we had no control over time or the past, we had to get the tractor out somehow.

To help the time pass by, I watched the small pond next to our house. It didn't do too much really, but it gave me a cool feeling in the blistering heat. I could hear my father coming towards the front of the barn. He never really was the most graceful man, and the sounds of him huffing and puffing gave me an early warning of his frustration. He burst out of the cracked door and looked at me, his face red and covered in sweat. He looked like a disgruntled dwarf in the Sahara desert.

"Paul! Why didn't you mind me to get some gas fer the tractor?"

This was his first idea; blame it on me so he doesn't look stupid.

"Pa, you had me get the mail, ya reckon?"

It was true; he'd had me get the mail that builds up every week for us. I couldn't get the gas or at least, had never thought of it. The last time I got the gas, I nearly blew up the tank, which is also when my parents found out about my smoking habit.

He looked at me with his wandering eye, snuffed, and headed towards the house. " Where you headin'?" I called to him.

" Well, I reckon if we need gas for the tractor to work, and we need to use the tractor, then why don't we get gas!" he replied without looking back, continuing his strides to the house.

I quickly followed suit. We never headed to town twice within a week unless it was a holiday or emergency. I guess to him, this was a bonafide emergency. We stepped into the house and Dad shouted out that we were headed back to town for gas. Ma came flying down the steps before Pa even said why we were leaving.

"Gas? But Emmett, we went to town yesterday."

My Mom was one of those people that had to have everything repeat itself. If it rained on a Tuesday when it was normally supposed to rain on Wednesday, she would whip out her rosary and pray.

"Don't you worry, Claire; I just forgot to buy some gas, that's all. Paul's headin' out with me."

Ma looked at me and smiled." Okay, you two take care."

She hugged us both and we headed out to the truck. Since we were going to town just for gas, Dad didn't bother to get all worked up about being clean. He figured that we would just go in and out of town. Ironically, the truck's tank was full of gas, apparently he hadn't forgotten about filling that up.

When I opened the passenger door, the heat inside rolled out onto my face. I jumped in and the leather interior burned though my dusty old jeans. Pa started the truck and we were off. As the heat began to swelter, I looked at my father, who didn't seem to have felt the wrath of the heat. Everything inside the truck was one of two materials: leather or metal. Everything in the vehicle had been radiating heat, the mirror gleamed with sun light. I reached down for the window crank and slowly twisted it. The window came flying down, and a gust of air flew in and cooled my face.

As we moved along the dirt road at about fifty miles an hour, I peered out of my open window. We passed the Lawson farm, the closest farm to ours, and saw that no one was out working. It must have been the heat; if it weren't for my father, we probably wouldn't be getting gas right now because I would have remembered, I thought.

Town was almost six miles away when the truck began to shake really bad. Pa began to curse and swear as he lost control. He quickly released the gas pedal and we slowly came to a stop. Dad flung open his door and ran to the back of the truck. I knew that we were stuck before he even got out of the car. I got out of the car and walked to my dad, he was staring at a blown tire. No words could describe the expression that was on his face; I don't believe I had ever seen him so mad. I could feel the frustration building up inside him.

We couldn't fix the car because we didn't have a spare, so we began to walk to town. My father was always an outdoors man, he was ready for anything and everything. He never planned on blowing a tire on a hot day like this, but he did plan that someday he would have to get out of the truck and walk for some time. So for just such an occasion, in the bed of the truck he kept a bag with water and the preserves Mom made. He would even refill the water every two days to make sure it was fresh.

We walked for what seemed for ever without saying a word. I glanced behind us to see the truck had vanished from the horizon. The heat made the air above the road wave and shimmer. I starred ahead of myself and watched the ground dance with the heat. Glancing at my fellow walker, I noticed he was smiling like he was when we were in the truck before the tire blew. " What are you grinning about?"

"This makes me remember when you were a little rascal, and we would go out on summer nights and go camping." he replied.

I remembered those days well. Dad and I would go out and make sure the cattle weren't attacked by any wild hounds. There never was much action; if any hounds came out, our campfire would usually scare them away. This was different though; it was hot.

Nodding my head, I agreed, adding with a laugh,"Remember when Buster would play with the newborn calves?"

"Oh yeah." he began to snicker as well. "I always wondered which was worse to those cows; him or those hounds."

Buster was my pup, I won him at a contest at a carnival in town. He would always start a ruckus with everyone. He would bark at anything that passed our house, even at the chickens when they headed over to my mom's garden. Buster got killed in an accident at the farm; we were all sad about it and had buried him next to my mother's garden. Buster loved it so much at that garden. After Buster passed away, times got rough; the farm started producing less and less, till finally we could only support our well-being with little to no luxury. "He was a good dog, Dad."

"Yes, yes he was."

Again it was quite for the longest time until I head a car ahead. I starred into the distance ahead and made out another truck heading our way. Pa had recognized it before I had even heard it; it was the Lawsons. That explained why there was no action on their farm; they were in town. My father and George Lawson went way back, they were friends when their parents owned the farm we lived on. Dad had flagged them down before they even knew who we were. "George! Is it a blessing to see you!"

"Emmett? What in God's name are you out walking in this heat for?"

Dad explained to him about how our tire blew up and all. Mr. Lawson gave us a ride to his farm. Dad got in beside Mr. Lawson and I jumped in the back. Mr. Lawson explained that he had to go back to the farm to pick up some letters that needed to be mailed and he had left the family in the town for the shopping. Then he said, "So Emmett, where you heading to go get your gas?"

My dad was stupefied." How'd you know?"

Mr. Lawson grinned. "Well, see, the clerk at the station said you came in but you had left your canister there; he said you were in a hurry and must have forgot it."

I laughed to myself as I realized that there was a canister of gas in the truck bed next to me with my dad's name scratched in it. Mr. Lawson continued, "Ya, i figured I'd come by your house when we got home and give it to you."

Pa laughed so hard when he heard this, he nearly cried."So you got my gas? I forgot I even had gas to begin with!"

We made back it to our truck. Mr. Lawson had a spare with his truck and he let us use it for the time being. He helped make sure the tire was on, and gave us our gas. My dad thanked him for saving us the time of walking back and forth in the blistering heat, and we headed home. We pulled up to the house just before the sun began to set. My dad looked at me and smiled. "Well, we got our gas!"