packwood

"Packwood by Robert Iddings I've seen black smoke trucks streaming dust behind thick enough to plug the nose and throat; nine wheels flattened on the curve, brakes sparking, pulling off that mountain with logs straining at the chains, bark flying loose to the ground. I've seen tourists take the ditch in their camping cars (they'd been warned) not believing there was any danger 'til one big, crudded grill poked round the downhill curve at fifty plus rolling home.