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’
F
ya
goin
’
big
,
what
’
s
a
matter
with
a
Cad
’
?
Jus
’
a
little
bigger
,
little
faster
.
I
’
d
take
a
Zephyr
myself
.
You
ain
’
t
ridin
’
no
fortune
,
but
you
got
class
an
’
speed
.
Give
me
a
Zephyr
.
Well
,
sir
,
you
may
get
a
laugh
outa
this
—
I
’
ll
take
Buick
-
Puick
.
That
’
s
good
enough
.
But
,
hell
,
that
costs
in
the
Zephyr
class
an
’
it
ain
’
t
got
the
sap
.
I
don
’
care
.
I
don
’
want
nothin
’
to
do
with
nothin
’
of
Henry
Ford
’
s
.
I
don
’
like
’
em
.
Never
did
.
Got
a
brother
worked
in
the
plant
.
Oughta
hear
him
tell
.
Well
,
a
Zephyr
got
sap
.
The
big
cars
on
the
highway
.
Languid
,
heat
-
raddled
ladies
,
small
nucleuses
about
whom
revolve
a
thousand
accouterments
:
creams
,
ointments
to
grease
themselves
,
coloring
matter
in
phials
—
black
,
pink
,
red
,
white
,
green
,
silver
—
to
change
the
color
of
hair
,
eyes
,
lips
,
nails
,
brows
,
lashes
,
lids
.
Oils
,
seeds
,
and
pills
to
make
the
bowels
move
.
A
bag
of
bottles
,
syringes
,
pills
,
powders
,
fluids
,
jellies
to
make
their
sexual
intercourse
safe
,
odorless
,
and
unproductive
.
And
this
apart
from
clothes
.
What
a
hell
of
a
nuisance
!
