I never fitted no bearing.
Hope to Jesus Tom did.”
A huge red billboard stood beside the road ahead, and it threw a great oblong shadow.
Tom edged the truck off the road and across the shallow roadside ditch, and he pulled up in the shadow.
He got out and waited until Al came up.
“Now go easy,” he called. “Take her slow or you’ll break a spring too.”
Al’s face went red with anger. He throttled down his motor.
“Goddamn it,” he yelled, “I didn’t burn that bearin’ out!
What d’ya mean, I’ll bust a spring too?”
Tom grinned.
“Keep all four feet on the groun’,” he said.
“I didn’ mean nothin’.
Jus’ take her easy over this ditch.”
Al grumbled as he inched the touring car down, and up the other side.
“Don’t you go givin’ nobody no idear I burned out that bearin’.” The engine clattered loudly now.
Al pulled into the shade and shut down the motor.
Tom lifted the hood and braced it.
“Can’t even start on her before she cools off,” he said.
The family piled down from the cars and clustered about the touring car.
Pa asked,
“How bad?” And he squatted on his hams.
Tom turned to Al.
“Ever fitted one?”
“No,” said Al, “I never. ’Course I had pans off.”
Tom said, “Well, we got to tear the pan off an’ get the rod out, an’ we got to get a new part an’ hone her an’ shim her an’ fit her.
Good day’s job.
Got to go back to that las’ place for a part, Santa Rosa.
Albuquerque’s about seventy-five miles on—Oh, Jesus, tomorra’s Sunday!
We can’t get nothin’ tomorra.”
The family stood silently.
Ruthie crept close and peered into the open hood, hoping to see the broken part.
Tom went on softly,
“Tomorra’s Sunday.
Monday we’ll get the thing an’ prob’ly won’t get her fitted ’fore Tuesday.
We ain’t got the tools to make it easy.
Gonna be a job.”
The shadow of a buzzard slid across the earth, and the family all looked up at the sailing black bird.
Pa said,
“What I’m scairt of is we’ll run outa money so we can’t git there ’t all.
Here’s all us eatin’, an’ got to buy gas an’ oil. ’F we run outa money, I don’ know what we gonna do.”
Wilson said,
“Seems like it’s my fault.
This here goddamn wreck’s give me trouble right along.
You folks been nice to us.
Now you jus’ pack up an’ get along.
Me an’ Sairy’ll stay, an’ we’ll figger some way.
We don’t aim to put you folks out none.”
Pa said slowly,
“We ain’t a-gonna do it.
We got almost a kin bond.