License to Thrill by Dan Gutman Page A

balls from the moon,” said Dr. McDonald with a snort.
    â€œWhat are you talking about, Ben?” asked Mrs. McDonald.
    â€œI’ll tell you later,” Dr. McDonald said. “Let’s get to sleep, everybody. We have a big day ahead of us. It’s a long drive back to California.”

Chapter 10
A LAND OF MANY CONTRASTS
    â€œA re we there yet?” Coke hollered from the backseat.
    Dr. McDonald laughed. He had just pulled the Ferrari 612 Scaglietti out of the parking lot of the Best Western El Rancho Palacio in Roswell, New Mexico.
    â€œVery funny,” he replied.
    Leaving Roswell, he drove past the International UFO Museum and Research Center, the Alien Zone, and a bunch of alien-themed gift shops.
    â€œI can’t believe how many people actually fall forthis alien crap,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s the biggest con job I’ve ever seen.”
    Coke and Pep shot looks at each other.
    â€œOh, I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. McDonald said. “I saw an article in the paper last week that said there could be as many as forty billion habitable Earth-size planets in the galaxy. How do you know there isn’t intelligent life out there?”
    â€œIntelligent life out there?” Dr. McDonald replied. “I’m not even convinced there’s intelligent life in this car . I’ll believe in aliens when I see them with my own eyes.”
    â€œI’m with you, Dad,” Coke said, winking at his sister. “What a con job.”
    The twins shared a secret laugh. There was no point trying to convince their parents that just a few hours earlier they had been walking on the moon and searching for Alan Shepard’s golf balls for some uptight aliens who had a thing about littering.
    The nice thing was that their brief adventure in outer space had completely knocked Coke and Pep’s other problems out of their minds. They had just about forgotten about the evil Dr. Herman Warsaw, Mrs. Higgins, Doominator, and those nincompoop bowler dudes who had been chasing them across the United States for the last four weeks. It was like a man witha stomachache who accidentally smashes his thumb with a hammer. Suddenly, he’s not thinking about his stomachache anymore.
    â€œGo West, young man!” Dr. McDonald bellowed as he pulled the Ferrari onto Route 70, the major road out of Roswell. The engine purred to life as he pushed his foot against the accelerator.
    â€œHow many miles is it to San Francisco?” Pep asked.
    Mrs. McDonald had her laptop computer open in the front seat. She tapped a few keys and reported that they had about 1,300 miles ahead of them, depending on which route they took to California.
    â€œIf we drove straight without making any stops,” Mrs. McDonald said, “we would be home in less than twenty hours.”
----
    If you’d like to follow the McDonalds on their trip back to California, it’s easy. Get on the internet and go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/), Mapquest (www.mapquest.com), Rand McNally (www.randmcnally.com) or whatever navigation website you like best.
    On Google Maps, click Get Directions. In the A box, type Roswell NM. In the B box, type Alamogordo NM. Then click Get Directions again.
    See the map? It would be a straight shot on Route 70 that morning for more than a hundred miles.
----
    Twenty hours. Both of the twins thought the same thing—soon, their nightmare would be over.
    Mrs. McDonald took out her New Mexico guidebook. The southern part of the state is mostly desert and boiling hot in the summer months.
    â€œIt says here that New Mexico is a land of many contrasts,” she reported. “Sun-baked deserts, deep caves, and snow-covered mountains. Big, modern cities and thousand-year-old Indian villages. Did you know that in the Aztec language, the word Mexico means ‘in the center of the moon’?”
    â€œActually, I did know that,” Coke said, looking out