I don't recall exactly how old I was, but I was probably about six years old. My Dad was going on a fishing trip with Mike and Dave. Matt and I wanted to go too, but they said we were too young. We had an old station wagon. There was a seat in the very back that folded down. At some point before they loaded the car, Matt and I hid in the back of the car, and folded the seat down on top of us. Part of the floorboard had rusted out so we could get oxygen, although looking back we were fortunate we didn't asphyxiate from carbon monoxide. We tried to be as quiet as possible, so we could arrive at the lake undiscovered. Laying there in the dark, hot compartment with nothing to keep us entertained, we both quickly fell asleep. It was summer, and our two bodies cramped together began to sweat. Once we left the paved roads dust from the dirt roads started to funnel up through our oxygen hole. I woke up first, then I woke Matt. They heard us talking, and pull to the side of the road. The dust clung to our sweaty bodies, and when they pulled us out we were caked in mud. We quickly wash off in the lake, and headed back home because Dad knew Mom would be worried sick.
--Brian
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