It's nearing the 300 mile mark and he hasn't said anything yet. Well, I'm not about to say anything either. What do I need to say? Damned if I'm going to be the one apologizing, again. I'm through with apologizing. Three-hundred miles and you wanna stick on for 300 more? Fine by me. "Fine by me." I see his eyes out of the corner of my eyes and they flicked at me for a minute. I bet he's wondering what I said but is too damned proud to ask. Fine. Be proud. "Be proud," I muttered. His eyes flicked again and he re-placed his hands on the steering wheel. I hear the small sigh coming from him. Trying to urge me to say something first, but I refuse. No way, jose. This time, it's your turn.

"Goddammit, man, can't you see what the problem is? Why you hasslin' us?" The grease monkey under the green cap squinted up at Joe and he chomped down on his tongue once� then twice. It was too comical, really. A stereotype of all stereotypes, standing before me at a gas station off a dirt road with no name in a state that everybody forgets about.

"You think I hasslin' you, son?"

I'd rather walk, really. Why deal with this horseshit? We just need some fucking water for the radiator and we're going to argue with a hick in the dry heat? Hell, no.

"Listen, Mister. We just need water. I don�t understand why it's necessary for you to do a complete check up on our car when all's we need is water."

He looked at me, downright cold and curious. "That so" he said, reassuring me rather than asking.

"Yeah. That�s it. We ran into this problem a ways back and it was just water. Alls we need is the water."

"That so," he said again.

I looked at Joe. He was looking down the road and shaking his head, his hands on his hips. He's pissed off. That's Joe, pissed off.

"We'll give you ten dollars for the water�"

"Like hell we will! Water is water! We ain't gotta pay to piss in his shitter, ain't no fucking way I'm paying a garage for some water to put in the damn radiator."

"That so," muttered the grease monkey.

I dug in my jeans and took out the five dollar bill and five ones I had crumbled in there for the last 700 miles. "Here," I said, counting them out and lying them flat in my hand. I ran my hand over every bill to take out the creases and flashed them at Greasy. "Water, please."

The monkey walked toward the garage and Joe spun me around, "What the hell are you doing? That's fucking� shit. That's blackmail or embezzlement or some other fucking crime whatever the hell it is he's doing. Why you giving that bastard money?"

"Why? Because I'm fucking hot! I'm sick of standing here, the guy gives me the creeps, it's the only station we've passed, and we don't know how long to the next one and we need the fucking water! Your arguing wasn't helping." But he wasn't even listening to me. He was looking across the road, probably searching for a mountain with a spring he could walk to just out of principle.

Three hundred miles. Almost have gone across the whole continental United States. No music. The radio broke before we even had the car on the highway. We sang some songs for a little while but then I felt stupid and so did Joe so we shut up and decided we'd just travel hardcore, in silence, without music. Every now and then I have the energy to show Joe an animal out in the distance there or maybe ask him if he's ever though about heaven or death or having kids, but he doesn't talk back much and I feel like an asshole so I stopped asking about five hundred miles ago.

Three-hundred one miles. Fine. Be that way. But the next time I talk, I'm going to act like it never happened.

"Here's your water."

Joe's jaw dropped. My heart did.

"Excuse the fucking what?!" screeched Joe. "You're going to give us a fucking liter of water for our car after we gave your ten fucking dollars?"

"If I remember right, son, your little lady gave me the money and you didn't want to. I don�t want to give you any water but the little lady gave me money so right here is your water. Wann' it?"

Joe punched him square in the fucking jaw. The man hardly flinched but the water bottle was on the dirt, covered already in the clay and turning to mud. I picked it up quick as I ran to the other side of the car to get out of the way. "You son of a bitch!" screamed Joe as he took another hit at the grease monkey.

"Joe Joe Joe Joe Joe�" I whispered. He looked downright evil. "Joe!"

"Shut up! This is your fault!"

"Like hell it is!"

"I want more fucking water, you lousy fucking chicken shit!"

The grease monkey was shuffling backward, his jaw in his hands. "Aw, hell, son. I was just foolin' ya. Testing your patience is all."

"Well it's fucking tested. Water."

Grease monkey went into his little booth and I called Joe over, begging him that we just leave. "You know how these people are. He probably has a shotgun right under his chair. He's gonna come out fucking swinging, Joe. What the hell d'you do that for?"

Now I don�t know much, but I know when enough is enough. "Joe, we best be leavin'."

"And how do you suppose we go?"

I quickly poured the remaining water in the radiator and got in the car behind the wheel. Joe glared at me. Then I saw the grease monkey coming out with a big ol' plastic gallon gas tank. "Joe, he makes me nervous." Joe flicked a glare at me then turned back to the old man. "Hey, man. Listen. I'm real sorry about that punch�"

Grease monkey was pouring the water out on the dirt in front of the car. "Oh, shit!" yelled Joe. He pushed me over and practically sat on my lap. "It's fucking gas!"

Faster than I could have ever guessed, Joe had us on the road and roaring away at nearly 60 miles an hour. I turned my head back to the gas man and saw his nasty yellow teeth in his grin. I swear he laughed extra loud to be sure I could hear him from this far away.

"Joe, you gotta watch your temper around strangers."

"Shut up," he threatened. And I did.