We broke down late one night miles from no where. The car just got hot and finally give out . . . so there we sat along the hard road. Me scared. Dad mad . . . drunk . . . smokin’ cigarettes . . . cussin’ . . . hollerin’. “Shit,” he said. “No wonder . . . there must be a ton of pumpkins in this car.” He lit another cig. “Let’s go,” he growled. We got out and started walkin’. It was so late. Nobody was goin’ by on old route 13. Finally we made it to the cross roads and caught a ride with a guy headed west. He dropped us off on Main Street and we got home about 2 in the morning. I tried to sleep but all I could do was worry about my cash crop stranded out there. I got up the next morning and dad was already gone. I had to go to school. When I got home that afternoon, the car was in the drive way and all my pumpkins were stacked neatly on the porch. I didn’t know I had that many. I was jumpin’ up and down. Dad came out and said, “Yeah . . . you better be happy ’cause by god I’m through . . . that’s it. I ain’t ever gonna haul so many god damn pumpkins again in that beat-up Chevrolet . . . I don’t care how drunk I am.”