The Election

A thick cloud of late August dust engulfed the Overland touring car as it traveled down the narrow, worn country road. It passed, on either side, an unending scene: cornfields, some half harvested, others, waiting with crops higher than the car itself. The new, shiny, black, chauffeur driven vehicle, with its once brightly polished brass head lamps and trim, was now a dull, nondescript, mud spattered gray; the dramatic change brought about by the prairie's unpredictable weather. There had been a brief morning shower while driving towards Flintville; and now there was this hot, dry afternoon of August dust on the trip into Crescent. The usually rolled-up isinglass curtains were now down and snapped into place to protect the single passenger in the back seat.