Fella in business got to lie an’ cheat, but he calls it somepin else.
That’s what’s important.
You go steal that tire an’ you’re a thief, but he tried to steal your four dollars for a busted tire.
They call that sound business.
Danny in the back seat wants a cup a water.
Have to wait.
Got no water here.
Listen—that the rear end?
Can’t tell.
Sound telegraphs through the frame.
There goes a gasket.
Got to go on.
Listen to her whistle.
Find a nice place to camp an’ I’ll jerk the head off.
But, God Almighty, the food’s gettin’ low, the money’s gettin’ low.
When we can’t buy no more gas— what then?
Danny in the back seat wants a cup a water.
Little fella’s thirsty.
Listen to that gasket whistle.
Chee-rist!
There she went.
Blowed tube an’ casing all to hell.
Have to fix her.
Save that casing to make boots; cut ’em out an’ stick ’em inside a weak place.
Cars pulled up beside the road, engine heads off, tires mended.
Cars limping along 66 like wounded things, panting and struggling.
Too hot, loose connections, loose bearings, rattling bodies.
Danny wants a cup of water.
People in flight along 66.
And the concrete road shone like a mirror under the sun, and in the distance the heat made it seem that there were pools of water in the road.
Danny wants a cup a water.
He’ll have to wait, poor little fella.
He’s hot.
Nex’ service station.
Service station, like the fella says.
Two hundred and fifty thousand people over the road.
Fifty thousand old cars—wounded, steaming.
Wrecks along the road, abandoned.
Well, what happened to them?
What happened to the folks in that car?
Did they walk?
Where are they?
Where does the courage come from?
Where does the terrible faith come from?
And here’s a story you can hardly believe, but it’s true, and it’s funny and it’s beautiful.
There was a family of twelve and they were forced off the land.
They had no car.
They built a trailer out of junk and loaded it with their possessions.
They pulled it to the side of 66 and waited.
And pretty soon a sedan picked them up.