To the White Mountains in a red Beetle, that car crawled and cried up the slopes in the grey mist. Me and best-friend-forever Nicole bouncing in the back seat, without seat belts, happy to be up, up and away from the Bean-town box grid. Stick shifting it, ‘Cole’s mama Nancy navigated from the red helm: “Girls, we are almost there, if we don’t get blown off the road!” Mount Washington holds the world record for the fastest wind gusts on earth. Poof! The red Beetle could be tossed, and lost down the mount. No bumper sticker for us! Mount Washington staff get asked questions like: “Is this mountain is man-made?” “So, Everest is near here, too, right?” “Are these clouds on a time schedule?” “Where are the Presidents’ faces carved into the mountain?” “What percentage of people who come here die?” We girls bouncing in back with baloney sandwiches, and candies! Black Nicole, Black Kim, White Nancy, red Beetle-bug, grey clouds. Out of town, happy day! We got up and drove away. Road trip to the top, on a bright blue morning through chubs of grey puff, We saw the view. Expansive! Wow! Did we even get out of the car? Did Nancy let her silky long hair be whipped by winds? We drove back down, still Beetle-bug bouncing in the expanded perspectives of Mount Washington. Boston approacheth as we tumbled down I-95, in September. A brute breeze hits the car, and the climate changes quickly. “Girls, I need you to put your coats over your heads and sit on the floor of the car. Don’t talk! Cover your faces, heads, hands and sit on the floor of the car.” No one in Southie wants to see black girls in 1974. No one wants to see black girls in Southie in 1974. Kids getting bussed, getting busted lips, shattered glass on dark children. From the White Mountains, we were now lost in Whitey Bulger-land. “Does Whitey shoot black folks on sight?” “The Irish wear shamrocks on their Klan hats, right?” “Do all the Irish walk around swinging bats to beat our heads?” “Will the President protect us from having our faces carved into?” “What percentage of Black people who get lost here die?” By Kim Zombik