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If I buy it all can you trade it locally for other things you or your family want, and then find someone you can trust to take the traded items to the farm?”She gives me an odd look while she nods, “Oh, yes. I can soon have all of the extra traded off for things we can use at the farm, and there are a few people here we can trust to take them to father. But the man wants three shells for the lot, and he won’t sell any less than two quads worth. We don’t have that much money, no one around here does.”I smile and lead her to Joe. Jaycee packs what we’ve already bought on the pack pony as I ask Joe for three shells. He gives me an odd look, but gets it out of his money pouch while being very careful not to flash it about. I hand my pouch with a few pinches and quads to Jaycee to carry and I slip the shells into my pocket while I ask Jason to join us on our trip back to the market. He declines, but Joseph volunteers to go with us.On the way back to the market I see Brian, earlier he was. This story is about me, a car, and a road.So first, more about me. I was a pretty good looker in those days and not too damned bad yet, despite the mileage, if I do say so myself. I was twenty-three years old, a flaming natural redhead with green eyes and a smattering of freckles--but not too many, from my face to my boobs.Speaking of boobs, I had an ample supply, to the tune of 38C and all natural, too. This was near the top of my five foot, ten inch frame. Further down, my waist measured 30 and my nicely shaped hips, 36. My thighs and calves were shapely and toned, tapering nicely from my tight little rounded butt. Back then, I wore a size ten dress (eleven or twelve if I did not want it skin tight in places) and a size six EEE shoe.I was into the women's liberation movement, in both attitude and dress, even before it arrived officially with the NOW organization in 1966. That's why I usually wore shorts, halter or tube tops (braless, naturally), either very skimpy panties or none.
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