It was sunny, spring air, but it was that cool, spicy kind that keeps you stopping every few minutes to see just how full you can suck your lungs without bursting.

It seemed to wash right through and through and make you all over.

The longer you breathed it the clearer your head became, and the better you felt, until you would be possessed to try and see if you really couldn't fly.

I tried that last summer, and knocked myself into jelly.

You'd think once would have been enough, but there I was going down the road with Laddie's pie, and wanting with all my heart to try again.
Sometimes I raced, but I was a little afraid the pie would shoot from the shingle and it was like pulling eye teeth to go fast that morning.
I loved the soft warm dust, that was working up on the road.