Then, something strange happens. The sun beat down on his head as Farley walked home along highway 85 in the hot summer heat. Sweat beaded on his brow running away in trickles, followed by rivers flowing down his face as he put one foot in front of the other. He wiped the sweaty locks from his forehead and stroked the growing beard that had recently graduated from a Van Dyke into a full-blown hippie beard. The smell of hot asphalt, mixed with the stench of exhaust fumes from cars wafted up into his nostrils, making breathing an unpleasant experience. He had just graduated from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte earlier in the day, and although his parents' house was in Concord, just a ten minute drive up the road, it seemed a lot further away when you had to walk the whole way. A friend from school happened to see him walking and pulled over about fifty feet down the road ahead of him. As Farley got closer he could see that it was Jim Strugg, one of his classmates Farley sauntered up to the car and Jim lowered the passenger side window as he unlocked the door.
