“Nothin’, not right now.
Soon’s the oil’s out an’ I get these here bolts loose, you can he’p me drop the pan off.” He squirmed away under the car, loosening the bolts with a wrench and turning them out with his fingers.
He left the bolts on each end loosely threaded to keep the pan from dropping. “Ground’s still hot under here,” Tom said.
And then, “Say, Casy, you been awful goddamn quiet the las’ few days.
Why, Jesus!
When I first come up with you, you was makin’ a speech ever’ half-hour or so.
An’ here you ain’t said ten words the las’ couple days.
What’s a matter—gettin’ sour?”
Casy was stretched out on his stomach, looking under the car.
His chin, bristly with sparse whiskers, rested on the back of one hand.
His hat was pushed back so that it covered the back of his neck.
“I done enough talkin’ when I was a preacher to las’ the rest a my life,” he said.
“Yeah, but you done some talkin’ sence, too.”
“I’m all worried up,” Casy said. “I didn’ even know it when I was a-preachin’ aroun’, but I was doin’ consid’able tom-cattin’ aroun’.
If I ain’t gonna preach no more, I got to get married.
Why, Tommy, I’m a-lustin’ after the flesh.”
“Me too,” said Tom. “Say, the day I come outa McAlester I was smokin’.
I run me down a girl, a hoor girl, like she was a rabbit.
I won’t tell ya what happened.
I wouldn’ tell nobody what happened.”
Casy laughed.
“I know what happened.
I went a-fastin’ into the wilderness one time, an’ when I come out the same damn thing happened to me.”
“Hell it did!” said Tom. “Well, I saved my money anyway, an’ I give that girl a run.
Thought I was nuts.
I should a paid her, but I on’y got five bucks to my name.
She said she didn’ want no money.
Here, roll in under here an’ grab a-holt.
I’ll tap her loose.
Then you turn out that bolt an’ I turn out my end, an’ we let her down easy.
Careful that gasket.
See, she comes off in one piece.
They’s on’y four cylinders to these here ol’ Dodges.
I took one down one time.
Got main bearings big as a cantaloupe.
Now—let her down—hold it.
Reach up an’ pull down that gasket where it’s stuck—easy now.
There!” The greasy pan lay on the ground between them, and a little oil still lay in the wells. Tom reached into one of the front wells and picked out some broken pieces of babbitt. “There she is,” he said. He turned the babbitt in his fingers. “Shaft’s up.
Look in back an’ get the crank.
Turn her over till I tell you.”
Casy got to his feet and found the crank and fitted it.
“Ready?”
“Reach—now easy—little more—little more—right there.”
Casy kneeled down and looked under again.
Tom rattled the connecting-rod bearing against the shaft.
“There she is.”
“What ya s’pose done it?” Casy asked.
“Oh, hell, I don’ know!
This buggy been on the road thirteen years.
Says sixty-thousand miles on the speedometer.