Гроздья гнева

           ThendownthegorgedRioGrandetoLasLunasandwestagainon66toGallup,andthere’stheborderofNewMexico.

           Andnowthehighmountains.HolbrookandWinslowandFlagstaffinthehighmountainsofArizona.Thenthegreatplateaurollinglikeagroundswell.AshforkandKingmanandstonemountainsagain,wherewatermustbehauledandsold.Thenoutofthebrokensun-rottedmountainsofArizonatotheColorado,withgreenreedsonitsbanks,andthat’stheendofArizona.There’sCaliforniajustovertheriver,andaprettytowntostartit.Needles,ontheriver.Buttheriverisastrangerinthisplace.UpfromNeedlesandoveraburnedrange,andthere’sthedesert.And66goesonovertheterribledesert,wherethedistanceshimmersandtheblackcentermountainshangunbearablyinthedistance.Atlastthere’sBarstow,andmoredesertuntilatlastthemountainsriseupagain,thegoodmountains,and66windsthroughthem.Thensuddenlyapass,andbelowthebeautifulvalley,beloworchardsandvineyardsandlittlehouses,andinthedistanceacity.And,oh,myGod,it’sover.

           Thepeopleinflightstreamedouton66,sometimesasinglecar,sometimesalittlecaravan.Alldaytheyrolledslowlyalongtheroad,andatnighttheystoppednearwater.Inthedayancientleakyradiatorssentupcolumnsofsteam,looseconnectingrodshammeredandpounded.Andthemendrivingthetrucksandtheoverloadedcarslistenedapprehensively.Howfarbetweentowns?Itisaterrorbetweentowns.