"You just learnin' to drive sister?" he wanted to know. I nodded
unhappily.
He must have pitied me in my obvious misery. He smiled, patted one of
my cold hands, and climbed out of the car. "Don't you worry none," he
advised. "We'll give you a push."
He climbed back into the truck, and pretty soon I felt the car being
shoved firmly forward. The entire mass of gadgets, pedals and levers
before me were by this time as incomprehensible to me as a Hebrew essay
on the fourth dimension. I knew that the men in the truck expected me
to get the car going under its own power soon, but I didn't even try.
When we approached our private road behind the cabins I signaled (that
much, at least, I knew how to do) that I was about to make a right
turn. I turned onto our road; the momentum and the slight downgrade
combined to let the car slide ahead along the road, onto the driveway
that led around to the cabins, and to the front of our own cabin. I
emerged from the haze long enough to identify and apply the brake. Then
I lay back in the seat like a dead woman until Grant and David, who
were still outside, came running up.
"How come you pullled a house almost all the way home?" David demanded,
moving his loose lower teeth back and forth with grimy, gum-stuck
fingers.
"Was I dreaming," Grant asked, "or--"
I waved my hand at them by way of answer, staggered out of the car and
into our cabin, where I flung myself upon the bed.