I’d been driving across Texas and Louisiana and the rest of the southern greats on into west Florida. The clutch gave out just as I crossed that last state line. It was always about a girl in those days. Everything I in me shivered at the sight of the mechanic.
He knew and I knew that what little money I had wasn’t going to be enough to settle it. So I had to beg a few dollars off my ma. Sliding up against that wall was enough of a task that I only asked her for dough a couple of other times in the twenty five years that lead from then to now.
by Hank Cherry
