We had a place where we would go camping. It’s at the top of a backcountry road. The road washes out and goes no further, and after that its just rock.
Instead of an F250 it was the F150.
And instead of being Easter it was June.
We pitched the tent on the bed of the truck. The day was a Saturday but it felt like Sunday.
We did not check the clocks for Time. The day just floated by and by and by
The campfire in June.