Author Roni Teson
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The Rambler

The faded pink Ramble might have been built in 1958, but my young friends and I reaped the benefits of that old jalopy in the 70s. With Audrey at the wheel, the neighborhood kids, ages five to ten, often piled inside, sometimes squeezing twelve little bodies in every...

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Lights Off

Lights Off

The boxy Dodge Colt I permanently borrowed from Dad had decided to stall, often. Stop at a red light or press the brakes—stall. “Alternator,” Dad mumbled into the phone. “Or spark plugs. Bring it by. I’ll take a look.” At twenty years old, I needed wheels for college...

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Lights Off

The boxy Dodge Colt I permanently borrowed from Dad had decided to stall, often. Stop at a red light or press the brakes—stall. “Alternator,” Dad mumbled into the phone. “Or spark plugs. Bring it by. I’ll take a look.” At twenty years old, I needed wheels for college...

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The Incident

Roni works from home when she’s not traveling. It’s a lifestyle that allows for freedom but entails longer work hours. But she’ll deny that. Even when she’s not actively on a call or getting ready for a meeting, the wheels in her brain are churning, usually about...

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