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down the hood.
He went to the crank and turned it half a dozen times. The engine caught, sputtered, and began to run with a pretentious roar.
Jimmy hastily reached for the wheel and adjusted the spark and throttle, then climbed in leisurely. With a grinding and a lurch we started off, my pony following docilely behind.
"Yes, tin, tin, tin," said Jimmy, doing mysterious things with his feet:
I have scorned yuh and I've flayed yuh,
But by the guy who made yuh,
You are bettuh than a big car,
Hunka tin!
We slipped into the car's second and highest speed, and began to run more smoothly. Jimmy looked behind to see that my pony was all right and began to roll a cigarette with his left hand, while expertly guiding the car around the numerous ruts and rocks in the roadway. I watched the process of cigarette-rolling without interest.
"I can't seem to get the knack of that," I remarked, when he had finished and was licking the edge of the paper to hold it in place.
"Imitatin'," said Jimmy casually. "There ain't any way that everybody can do. Nobody else I know rolls 'em like this. It's jus' easiest fo' me. You'll have to mess around till you find a way that fits yo' fingers."
"I'll smoke tailor-made," I said, "rather than bother with learning."
"Jus' like th' new generation," said Jimmy severely. Jimmy, it may be said, is thirty, but affects the authority of a man of eighty. "Wantin' everything done by somebody else, or else by machin'ry. They even want theh thinkin' done fo' them."
"It's too hot to think down here." I took off my hat and wiped the moisture off the sweat-band.
"Judgin' by the little bit of it people do," Jimmy remarked acridly, "most folks agree with you. Most people look at thinkin' as somethin' they was taught to do in schools, an', as such, somethin' t' forget as soon as possible. From th' folks that don't think about th' spigoty revoltosos jus' across th' border an' are pained an' surprised when th' spigoti