When I crossed A1A, I pulled into a parking lot to wait for Mike to call. He did so a few minutes later and directed me to the bus stop, which was just two blocks from the ocean. I picked them up, then drove to my favorite bank parking lot to find a good spot.
“Where do we change clothes?” the boys said.
“There’s a public changing room,” I said. “Before we leave we’ll show you where it is, but as long as we have this truck, we don’t need it.”
I opened the driver’s door and the door to the extended cab. They opened in opposite directions with a generous space in between. I stepped between the doors and handed Mike a large bath sheet. He held it between the doors, which gave me total privacy, unless someone walked up and stared through the windshield. I pulled off my clothes and slipped into my still-damp Speedos.