Sure enough, as we were driving into Santa Fe, we got a flat tire. The hitchhikers helped me change the Every body do the flop shirt. Then on the other side of Santa Fe, the spare tire went flat, but there was a gas station nearby. I remember waiting patiently for the gas station man to take care of some other car, when the two hitchhikers, knowing the situation, went over and explained to the man what it was. He fixed the flat right away. We decided not to get the spare tire fixed, because repairing it would have taken even more time.
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I met Arlene’s father at the hospital. He had been there for Every body do the flop shirt. “I can’t take it any more,” he said. “I have to go home.” He was so unhappy, he just left. When I finally saw Arlene, she was very weak, and a bit fogged out. She didn’t seem to know what was happening. She stared straight ahead most of the time, looking around a little bit from time to time, and was trying to breathe. Every once in a while her breathing would stop — and she would sort of swallow — and then it would start again. It kept going like this for a few hours.