Gold, A Summer Story by Mike Bozart - HTML preview

Preface

It was another infernally hot and humid July afternoon in Charlotte, but I had this particular Friday off. Having procured a cheap metal detector, some prospector’s pans and a spade, I was ready to find gold. Even though I knew that it was the longest of longshots – I knew that no one had found any decent-size gold nuggets in North Carolina in decades (I majored in Geology) – I was so sure that I was going to search the right hundred-square-foot area and strike it rich using the power of sunbaked-brain naïveté.

I was driving east on NC 24/27 (Albemarle Road), heading towards the old Reed Gold Mine while listening to Charms by The Philosopher Kings on the radio. (Yeah, I can still recall that day like it was yesterday.) It was the summer of ’95. I pulled off the road and parked after crossing the bridge over Rocky River. At that time you didn’t get hassled for doing such by the cops. I can’t recommend it now.

Well, to make a long story much shorter, I just got muddy, bit by at least a dozen mosquitoes and horseflies, and even nicked my foot on some broken glass in the stream. Needless to say, I didn’t find any gold.

However, while driving back to Charlotte at sunset, I got the initial idea for this novel. It languished in my brain for some 18 years. GOLD, a summer story is the product of this neural fermentation.

Hope you enjoy it. The language is a bit coarse at times and the sexual interludes are somewhat graphic, but I was only staying true to the characters and offering a vivid account.