You can’t railroad memory. Technically, we were leaving Cuba. In reality, we stayed; stayed there where our recollections were and where we had learned the greatness of a philosophy which makes a man do things—just because. Some day we are going back, we hope. Some day, when the new government has spent its thirty millions of dollars and built its many highways. We are going back to rush over the country in El Toro; to dash, in reckless flight, by the same places where we struggled up the hills inch by inch. Why? Just because. Casa Cinco to Sancti Spiritus—twenty-eight miles. Havana to Sancti Spiritus—313 miles.