Old Joe and his son Tony were on their way to White River to catch some fish. They started on the trip long before the sun came up. Old Joe drove the car. Tony slept in the back seat. Joe enjoyed looking at the empty city streets in the early morning. The cool wind blew pieces of paper across the dark road. These days he often felt as empty as the streets. As he grew older, loneliness became a close friend who was always with him. Outside the city, Joe drove slowly down the river road. The dark sky began to grow lighter. He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. Not long ago he had worked hard with those hands, but now they did not do much, just drive the car and hold a fishing stick. Farther on he saw something in the middle of the road, he stopped the car. Tony sat up in the back seat. "What's wrong?" he asked in a sleepy voice. "What're we stopping for?"