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Show RTVER river contained in my memory: it cooled my blood by many degrees. We watched a towboat come booming down the flood. "God," said Stockdale. "If one of those things ran you down, you'd be dead for certain." I nodded and we drank Lonestar Beer and watched the river in silence. We drove all night, up through Tennessee and into Kentucky. In Ripleyville the truck's universal joint burned out. It was ten o'clock, but we found a place called Lovelady's Garage that still had its lights on. We wandered into the office, but nobody was around. We waited for somebody to show up (mechanics seldom leave a well-stocked garage unlocked and untended for long) till finally Richard phoned Mr. Lovelady's home number. He'd simply forgotten to lock up and turn off the lights, and he came down and hustled up a new U-joint and had us on the road again with lightening speed. While he was working I asked him about the river. "Yeah," he said, "I fish and hunt ducks out there all the time." "My buddy here's gonna take that boat we've got strapped on the truck down the river," said Stockdale. "This time of year?" asked Lovelady. "Yep," I said. "God, son," he said. "You don't want to go out on the river this time of year." "How come?" I asked. "The wind, son," he said and then he winked at me. "The wind." Richard was exhausted and climbed into the back of the truck to sleep with Thor while I drove north into Kentucky through the deserted two-lane darkness. My nerves were raw and I had achieved that clear, stellar state of mind you reach once you've burnt everything else and are running on the body's pure electricity. -141- |