Vt., Ohio. Going west. Fine cars, cruising at sixty-five.
There goes one of them Cords. Looks like a coffin on wheels.
But, Jesus, how they travel!
See that La Salle? Me for that. I ain’t a hog. I go for a La Salle.
’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.