"Wow!
Dig that gone gal on his belt!
Let's all blow!"
Dean tried to catch up with them.
"Now wouldn't it be fine if we could all get together and have a real going goofbang together with everybody sweet and fine and agreeable, no› hassles, no infant rise of protest or body woes misconceptalized or sumpin?
Ah! but we know time."
He bent to it and pushed the car.
Beyond Houston his energies, great as they were, gave out and I drove.
Rain began to fall just as I took the wheel.
Now we were on the great Texas plain and, as Dean said, "You drive and drive and you're still in Texas tomorrow night."
The rain lashed down.
I drove through a rickety little cowtown with a muddy main street and found myself in a dead end.
"Hey, what do I do?"
They were both asleep.
I turned and crawled back through town.
There wasn't a soul in sight and not a single light.
Suddenly a horseman in a raincoat appeared in my headlamps.
It was the sheriff.
He had a ten-gallon hat, drooping in the torrent.
"Which way to Austin?"
He told me politely and I started off.
Outside town I suddenly saw two headlamps flaring directly at me in the lashing rain, Whoops, I thought I was on the wrong side of the road; {eased right and found myself rolling in the mud; I rolled back to the road.
Still the headlamps came straight for me.
At the last moment I realized the other driver was on the wrong side of the road and didn't know it.
I swerved at thirty into the mud; it was flat, no ditch, thank God.
The offending car backed up in the downpour.
Four sullen fieldworkers, snuck from their chores to brawl in drinking fields, all white shirts and dirty brown arms, sat looking at me dumbly in the night.
The driver was as drunk as the lot.
He said,
"Which way t'Houston?"
I pointed my thumb back.
I was thunderstruck in the middle of the thought that they had done this on purpose just to ask directions, as a panhandler advances on you straight up the sidewalk to bar your way.
They gazed ruefully at the floor of their car, where empty bottles rolled, and clanked away.
I started the car; it was stuck in the mud a foot deep.
I sighed in the rainy Texas wilderness.
"Dean," I said, "wake up."
"What?"
"We're stuck in the mud."
"What happened?"
I told him.
He swore up and down.
We put on old shoes and sweaters and barged out of the car into the driving rain.
I put my back on the rear fender and lifted and heaved; Dean stuck chains under the swishing wheels. In a minute we were covered with mud.
We woke up Marylou to these horrors and made her gun the car while we pushed.
The tormented Hudson heaved and heaved.
Suddenly it jolted out and went skidding across the road.
Marylou pulled it up just in time, and we got in.
That was that – the work had taken thirty minutes and we were soaked and miserable.
I fell asleep, all caked with mud; and in the morning when I woke up the mud was solidified and outside there was snow.
We were near Fredericksburg, in the high plains.