...continued from the womens’ C1932 Ford T-shirt “Son? Can you check the oil and tire pressure?” Daydream over, delayed by Vietnam, marriage, children, work. And this silly bouffant-haired woman whose assembly line nightmare of loose tolerances is dripping oil on the concrete apron. As she pulls away in a cloud of the telltale blue smoke of poorly machined valve journals, he hears the gentle rhythmic tap of superheated exhaust gas sneaking by a failing head gasket. He looked across the street, and the deuce was gone.