"Why… you stupid bastard!" Stan roared, visibly shaken by the close call… the possibility of being involved in the smash-up, had the sports car and the motorcycle crashed together.

Just around the next curve, a highway sign warned of a turnout ahead, and Stan heaved a sigh of relief, as he studied the rear-view mirror, again, to see that there were ten or more cars strung out behind his camper. He pulled off the road into the cleared space, trying to ignore the grim faces of the drivers who swept by on the road. Some of the people were outright angry. He could see their mouths move, cursing him, insultingly… But, Christ! He rationalized. I can't help it if the damned engine's acting up…!

He consulted a California highway map. "There's a little town up ahead… maybe fifteen miles or so…" he observed. "I can get a set of new spark plugs there… then it's only about sixty miles to that State Park…"

Lois wasn't really listening. She agreed, absently, "That's good…" then added, "maybe… we can get to bed earlier, tonight… and…"

"Yeah and get a good night's sleep, for a change so we can get on the road earlier…"

"I wasn't thinking… just about sleep…" Lois murmured.

"Oh, you mean something else, like sex…? Well it's according to how tired I am. Okay?"

"I guess it'll have to be… all right…" she sighed with resignation, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be too tired, too busy… too drunk… or too something. It seemed, lately, that was the story of their married sex-life. She decided to change the subject.

"Did you notice what that girl… on the back of the motorcycle did?"

"No… what did she do?" Stan responded, looking back down the road to see that the traffic had cleared. He put the truck in gear and eased out onto the narrow highway.

"She made that awful sign… with her hand, too!"

"Oh, that! Just consider the source! They're just a bunch of worthless motorcycle bums! They probably belong to one of those clubs or gangs!"