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Show Flying - 108 Down and down they slide, deeper and deeper they spiral toward the bottom of the golden bowl. The jeep rolls slowly past the wreck of a semi, but it is an old wreck, with thistles blooming purple all around the overturned cab and grass growing between the charred ribs of the trailer. "I suppose they dragged it up from the bottom and planted it here as a warning," says Wilberforce. The long grass is yellow on the slopes, where it lies combed into rolling ridges by the wind. The sun, almost overhead, glares off it and from time to time John Henry has to shield his eyes with his hand to see where he's going. The mountains grow taller behind them as they go down the road. Closing off their return. An hour later they reach the bottom and stop again. John Henry walks back down the line to O'Connell's truck. Thompson is sitting on the running board, wiping the dust off his shoes with his handkerchief. "Where's Joe?" says John Henry. "Back at the water truck," says Thompson. "How're you and Wilberforce coming along? He educated you yet?" "He's trying," says John Henry sitting down on the bumper. He looks uneasily at the bright mountains behind him and the flat floor of the valley ahead. "How do you like California so far?" he says. |