"What's the matter?" I asked him. "What happened?" "Nothing's the matter," he said. "You want to drive or want me to drive?" "You just now yelled." "Me? You sure I yelled, Harry?" A car sped by, following its headlight beams. "Window's broke," I said. "Is it?" Joe Loftus asked me in mild surprise. "Is it now? That's what you get for trying to shift those potatoes around in the middle of the trip." "Potatoes!" I yelled. "Hell, yeah. Potatoes. Hey, what's the matter with you, anyhow?" "Potatoes," I said. "All right, so go take a look." Joe scowled but went. In a little while I heard the tongue and doors slamming and the chain being dragged across. Joe came back and gave me a long funny look. "Yeah, potatoes," he said. I didn't push it. We'd been on the road a long time today. Sometimes the road can get to you like that. Maybe you read something about highway hypnotism. If you're driving too long on a good road like the Montauk Highway or one of the throughways, after a while you get to see things which aren't there or don't see things which are there. It can be plenty trouble but it wasn't going to hurt me tonight if I imagined a return load of Long Island potatoes was a big glob of jelly. I scratched my head. "Highway's got you, huh?" Joe said. He knew the symptoms. "Tell you what, Harry? Why don't you sleep it off? I feel pretty good. I can take her in." I thanked Joe and climbed up on the slab bunk in the rear of the cab. The window was broken back there, all right. You couldn't argue about that. But it was too dark to see into the van, except that I could see the van window was likewise shattered. I drifted off sleepily, not thinking about it much. Joe was a good driver, one of the best. Maybe when I opened my eyes we'd be in the city, heading for one of the big wholesale produce markets.... * * * * * It was raining when I awoke. Thunder rolled and rumbled and then split like a pine board overhead. Lightning was stabbing at the sky. "Joe?" I said, sleepily. He grunted a wordless answer. "We near the city yet?" "You only slept maybe half an hour, chum. Why don't you catch another forty?" I said: "That's real white of you, pal." Joe grunted again. The truck lurched around a turn. The rain beat down. I opened my eyes and looked down past Joe's head. Just then a flash of lightning lit up the night. I caught a glimpse of a narrow two-lane asphalt road and stunted scrub pine growing in what looked like sandy ground. "Hey!" I shouted. "This isn't the Montauk Highway. This isn't the way back. What's going on?" "Just get some sleep, will you?" Joe said. "Detour back there." "Wasn't any detour when we came out." "Well, there's a detour now." I was wide awake. I didn't like the way Joe sounded. "Listen," I said. "The road's fine. There wasn't anything wrong with the road. So why the detour?" "Flash flood, I guess."