Weary of his well-traveled shipping route, Rick tries a new road on for size, fraught with pleasures…… and DANGERS.

Read this exciting excerpt from “Fresh Mounds, Anon“:

There is comfort in a well-known road, like moments shared with an old friend. And that was what my trusty ol’ route had become to me: a true and lasting companion, unerring in its support. I wouldn’t be where I was – or who I was – without putting the hammer down across its miles of asphalt day after day, night after night, through sunny days and stormy skies, until this stretch of highway was as familiar to me as my large and calloused hands, or my chiseled abdomen. I knew this road, and this road knew me.

Yes, my trusty ol’ route was my daily bread… but man does not live by bread alone – at least not this man. So I called up Tina at Central Dispatch, a sassy ol’ crone who’d been telling truckers where to go and how to get there since I was a mere babe, and told her of my plight. My route had served me well, but I needed new challenges, new vistas, new roads – the sweet and unspoilt tang of highways I’d never driven down before. Could she provide the wild new path I sought?

“Well, Jerry died, so his route’s free,” Tina said over the CB.

I laughed at her curt, no-nonsense reply and thanked her for her service. She gave me the details. I checked my map and jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, so as not to miss my turnoff. New adventures awaited me just over the horizon – fresh green hills to crest and mount – unexplored valleys to enter, driving hard through the night – all the promise of bright new roads laid itself out before me. I smiled into the sun in anticipation. New roads, new valleys, new hills –

Fresh mounds, anon!