"I ask you only one thing," Mrs. Adams said to him, directing the work. " Don't bother us!"

"But, Becky," muttered her grief-stricken husband, "I'm obliged to work along with everybody."

And thus the Rocky Mountains remained in our memory: a bright and cold springlike day of late November, small, compact clouds racing across a greenish and translucent sky, and over the edges of the plateau | grey and blue cliffs as even as a fence. Back of us, below, were Texas, Chicago, New York, the Atlantic Ocean, Europe. Ahead of us, below, were California, the Pacific Ocean, Japan, Siberia, Moscow. There we were ankle-deep in icy slush, clumsily tugging the chains over the hard tyres washed clean by the water.

An hour later the chains were on and Mrs. Adams was starting the motor. On the very highest peak of the mountain pass we found a dilapidated wooden hut with the sign " Cafe-Bar." In charge of it was a girl in breeches, boots, and a thin blouse with short sleeves. Although there was no dwelling for many miles around, the girl did not seem at all bucolic. She was a typical New York, Chicago, or Amarillo girl from a cafe, with neat marcel, rouged cheeks, plucked eyebrows, polished finger-nails, and a faultless professional knack of working.

We each drank a small glass of gin, warmed up, and went on our way, all our sorrows forgotten.

But the moment we began to admire the landscape, we heard a horrible racket, and Mrs. Adams, stopping the machine, looked first at us and then at Mr. Adams.

"Oh, Becky! You see, you see, I told you ..." "What did you tell me?"

"Becky! Don't ask me about anything. This is terrible!" However, nothing especially terrible had actually occurred. All that happened was that one of the chains which was not firmly attached had broken and damaged the support of the left fender.

We took off the chains and carefully drove ahead. The sun warmed us more and more. The ice disappeared entirely, and like the little pigs we came to life again. We exclaimed over the stern beauty of the plateau and the cool brightness of the day.

"We're well off, gentlemen!" said Mr. Adams. "Just think of how the pioneers fared when they crossed this road for weeks, for months, without food and without water. Yes, gentlemen, without water. Willi wives and little children ..."

But Mr. Adams suddenly dropped into silence, so we never found out how the pioneers had fared. Craning his neck, he stared ahead, blank horror in his eyes.

The road was blocked by a board. On it was this sign: "Road under repair. Detour eleven miles."

"Detour" meant that we had to drive around and about. Here really . was the rare occasion when one actually needs chains in America. But we were already short of one set of chains. In the middle of the detour, which was mostly swashy red clay, a blue, double-deck autobus of the Greyhound Company stood to one side. It was bound for Los Angeles. If this mighty machine got stuck, what would happen to us? The autobus leaned like a ship grounded on a reef. A bright yellow caterpillar tractor and a road plough were coming to its aid.

Ahead of us for several hours travelled a strange creature which only out of sheer pity could be called an automobile. It was not really an automobile ; rather was it an auto wigwam with a rusty iron stovepipe and torn cotton comforters that flapped in the wind, albeit they were intended for the walls of this imaginary cabin. Inside could be seen a metal vat and large dirty children.

To our amazement the auto wigwam boldly plunged into the deep thin mud. We followed suit. From the windows of the Greyhound bored passengers looked out. Those eleven miles were evidently the very worst in America, and one simply had to be blessed with extraordinary automobile luck to strike those particular eleven miles. At any rate, throughout our entire journey in America we never again struck such a bad piece of road.

Several times we landed in immense puddles of thin mud and put our shoulders to the automobile. Our shoes, our trousers, the skirts of our overcoats, our shoulders, and even our faces—all were covered with

pink clay.

Having come out on a hard road, the auto wigwam stopped. Out of it emerged a numerous family, which began to gather kindling for a fire. The family had evidently decided to dine. We drove past, regarding the family with a certain amount of envy. After all the suffering we had endured we wanted to eat.

The sun baking quite vigorously now, we quickly became dry and our spirits rose.

"Look! Look!"Mrs.Adamsshouted,wavingherarms. "What cliffs!"

"Becky! Don't let go the steering wheel! Keep your eyes on the road!" said Mr. Adams. " We will describe all the views to you later on!"

"No, but just look! That cliff looks like a castle!"

"And that one looks like a tower!"

"Gentlemen! Look quick. This is simply remarkable. The cliff looks like a huge piece of cheese."

"No, rather like a pie."

"A meat pie."

"Like a very long, long sausage. You know the kind. There is a certain Milan sausage that is very tasty."

We waxed hungrier and hungrier. While driving by some beautiful cliffs which, according to Mr. Adams, looked like a plate of hot soup, we realized that we were famished.

However, a new event distracted our troubled reveries. Mr. Adams. accidentally opened the door on the traffic side, and a gust of wind almost threw him out of the machine.

While we were driving along the main street of Gallup, looking for a restaurant, we heard a crack which, by comparison with the already familiar sound of a snapping chain, seemed to us the melodic chirping of a cricket. Our car shuddered and stopped. The first second we realized that we were alive, and were overjoyed at the thought. The next second we realized that we were the victims of an accident. An old green, clean little semi-truck had bumped into the side of our new grey dirty car.

At once a crowd gathered around our automobiles. We looked sadly at the dented side and the slightly bent step. The man responsible for this mishap climbed off his semi-truck and muttered apologies.

"Sir," said Mr. Adams defiantly, "you cut into our car."

He was spoiling for a fight.

But there was no fight. Our opponent did not even think of denying his guilt and laid the blame mostly on his own "damned brakes." He was so embarrassed by the occurrence, and the damage he had done to us was so small, that we decided not to drag the matter into the courts, and parted.

Gallup gave us a good insight into America. As a matter of fact, this town did not at all differ from other small towns, thus considerably facilitating the writer's task by making a physical description of the town entirely superfluous. Any old Gallupian who had stayed away for two or three years would have scarcely recognized his native town— because there is not a single distinctive attribute by which he could distinguish it from any other American town.

"What city is that?" he might ask, poking his head out of his automobile, and only after learning that this actually was Gallup, and not Springfield or Geneva, could he begin to kiss his native soil (pavement). And it is precisely because of this absence of originality that the town of Gallup is remarkable. If Americans should ever fly to the moon, they would not fail to build there towns identically like Gallup. After all, it lies right in the heart of New Mexico's moonlit deserts—this petrol oasis with its "Main Street"; its "Manhattan Cafe," where you may drink tomato juice, eat apple pie, and upon depositing five cents in a slot machine may hear a phonograph record or a mechanical violin; with its department store, where you may buy corduroy trousers the colour of rust, socks, neckties, and a cowboy shirt; with its Ford automobiles; with its motion-picture theatres, where you may see unroll before your eyes the life of the rich or of bandits; with its drug-stores, where neat girls, as dandified as Polish lieutenants, eat ham and eggs before going to work. Good old Gallup! It is not interested in what is happening in Europe, Asia and Africa. Gallup is not even any too interested in general American affairs. It is proud, because, although it numbers only six thousand inhabitants, it has hot and cold water, bathrooms, showers,refrigerators, toilet paper in lavatories—in short, it has the same comforts and conveniences as Kansas City and Chicago.