I decided to go back by Figueroa, and when I turned into it a couple of white sailors thumbed me and I stopped to give them a lift. They were very young boys, still in their teens, scrubbed-faced and slightly tanned. The three of us sat in the front seat; the one in the middle put his arm behind me to make room. For a time we went along without talking, then I asked, 'What's you guy's names?'

'Lester,' the one in the middle said, and the other one said, 'Carl.'

'What's yours?' Lester asked, and I told him, 'Bob.'

'You work in a shipyard?' Carl asked.

'Atlas,' I told him. 'I'm a sheet-metal worker.'

'I worked a while up at Richmond-Richmond No. 1, Kaiser's yard,' he said. 'I'm from San Francisco.'

'I was up there once,' I said. 'I like Frisco, it's a good city.'

The boy in the middle hadn't said anything, so I asked him, 'Where you from, Lester?'

'Memphis,' he said. 'You ever been there?'

I gave him a quick side glance; then I chuckled. 'No, I never been to Memphis,' I said. 'I'm from Ohio-Cleveland.'

'I bet you'd like Memphis,' he said as if he really believed it.

'Maybe,' I said. 'But I'll never know.'

He grinned. 'You like Los Angeles, eh?'

'Just between you and me,' I said, 'Los Angeles is the most over-rated, lousiest, countriest, phoniest city I've ever been in.'

That was one thing we all agreed on. They liked my car and we talked about cars for a time as we skimmed along the wide straight roadway. The boy from Frisco said, 'Of course if I had my way I'd take a Kitty.'

I said, 'Who wouldn't?'

We passed a couple of girls jiggling along in thin summer dresses and the boy from Memphis whistled.

I said, 'I bet you wouldn't take it if she gave it to you.'