I listened. Nothing but the sound of the motor and the rain outside. I sniffed. That odd smell was gone. I fumbled for my matches and scratched one against the flint. It made a faint sodden sound and I thought I wasn't going to have any luck. But just then the match spluttered and flared and caught. There were no potatoes. There wasn't any glob of jelly. "Come on in away from the rain. Come over to me, Harry, honey," she said. I dropped the match and it went out. It was a woman. There was a lovely blonde-haired woman in the van there. She had been dressed up like for a party, at least in the little I saw of her I thought that was the way she was dressed. And she was absolutely dry, as if she hadn't somehow come in out of the rain or anything. "Come on, Harry," she called in a seductive voice. "I'm waiting, Harry." I walked stiffly into the van. Well, I'm human, aren't I? I was fumbling again with the matches. I had to see her once more. If this was highway hypnotism, I was all for it. In the light of the first match she'd been beautiful. I struck the second match but the head crumbled wetly. I tossed it away irritably and was about to strike a third when her hand touched me. "Harry," she said. "Harry." I never did get her name. What the hell, it didn't matter. She was only there for one purpose. Probably she didn't even have a name. She didn't need one. There was no before and no after for her. Only the all-containing now and a guy named Harry Miller. "Do you like me, Harry?" she asked. She came against me, softly firm and straining. She had a strong, musky perfume on her. Her hair touched my face and her voice whispered in my ear. "Desire me," she said. "Do you desire me?" Damn fool question, I thought without pushing it. Hell, yes, I desired her. Who the hell wouldn't? Outside, the rain drummed down. In the cab, Joe gunned the motor. I kissed the girl in the van and she returned my kiss hotly, avidly. "Harry," she said. I folded her in my arms and sat down on the floor of the van. The truck lurched and something rolled against my leg. I reached down with one hand. The woman sensed this. Her warm fingers touched my arm as she tried to draw my hand back. But I found what had rolled against my leg anyway. It was a potato. It was what should have been back there in the van in the first place, no lump of glob and no beautiful dame, just a return load of Long Island potatoes for market. I pushed the woman away from me and stood up, holding the potato like it was a talisman. "Harry?" she cried, hurt in her voice. "What is it? What's the matter?" I didn't answer her. I walked to the rear of the van and looked out. It was dark out there. The rain came down in a heavy, faintly silver curtain. After a while lightning lit the sky and I saw the road was running parallel to the ocean now. I figured we were somewhere not too far from Riverhead. Probably south and a little west of Riverhead, down by the water. But why? Why?