"What seems to be wrong with the motor, Stan?" she asked, finally, breaking a long, silence.

"Couple of dirty spark plugs!" He didn't turn his head to answer her question.

She, also, could see the long string of motorcycles, cars and campers behind them. Since their camper was the first in the line, it was their vehicle that was holding back the traffic.

"Shouldn't we pull over… and let those other people pass us…?"

Stan snapped back, "Sure! Hell yes… I should… but there are no turn-outs!"

"You passed a couple of them… back there…"

"You want to drive this rig?" he shot back.

"No… but…"

"Then… shut up… and get the hell off my back!"

For perhaps the thousandth time, it seemed to Lois, she turned silently away, her deep blue eyes brimming with glistening tears. Their vacation, too, was turning sour… just as everything about their marriage seemed to be falling apart. She had promised herself that these two weeks away from the cares of day-to-day living and home-making chores would be happy ones; days that would heal some of the wounds, solve some of their differences… and draw them closer together… perhaps, even, regenerate their feelings of tenderness for each other… and rejuvenate the sexual side of their lives. She sighed with self-pity and a nostalgic longing for things as they had been… when they were first married; of course, even then there had been some problems, but she and Stan had been younger then. They had been full of hope and optimism, but now… She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and looked out at the mountain landscape, the forested slopes seeming to offer a serenity she didn't feel.