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Page 250
check out. He didn't like it, but he bought it.
The Z was worse off than I thought. In addition to a ruptured fuel line, it had a broken tie rod and the right front wheel was bent. Nevertheless, I managed to maneuver it across the street and down the block to a decrepit, grease-caked garage that looked far better suited to housing an anvil and forge than a lube rack. The proprietor was probably at Kendall's meeting so I pushed it up next to the old structure, locked it and left it.
The Austin widow was still on my mind, and the prospect of hoofing it out to her place in the fog lacked a certain amount of appeal. I went back to the schoolhouse, scouted around and finally spotted Percy Kramer's pickup truck. It was still parked in front of the darkened drugstore with the keys in the ignition. Wherever Percy was now, I didn't think it mattered much to him who used it.
It took all of 20 minutes to thread my way back out to the Carson road and start to work my way back up to the old woman's house. The fog seemed to be settling in again, and the encroaching darkness only compounded the situation. Lights didn't help. The road seemed to end abruptly no more than 30 or 40 feet in front of the truck.
The whole effort evolved into a guessing game. I hadn't been clever enough to record the mileage in previous visits and now, no

 
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