“Is this the end of the world?”

When the Price family rolled through Ellwood City on their return trip from the western edge of the Empire State, that was the question this rising eighth grader asked upon spotting vehicles of all shapes and sizes lined up around the block at every gas station in town on the third Saturday in June.

“Our country’s in the middle of a gasoline shortage, Mister Inquisitive,” replied Dad, glancing at my reflection in the rearview mirror. “If you and John want to come along for the ride, I’ll be topping off the gas tank after dropping off your mother and the girls; but be prepared for a long wait.”

“Should we keep our sleeping bags and pillows in the car?” queried my big brother, poking his head up from the way back of the family station wagon like a prairie d

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