The only clean spot was on the windshield, where Bud had reached around once or twice with a handful of waste and cleaned a place to see through.

It was raining soddenly, steadily, as though it always had rained and always would rain.
Bud turned his face slightly to one side.

"How about stopping; I'll have to feed her some oil--and it wouldn't hurt to fill the gas tank again.
These heavy roads eat up a lot of extra power.

What's her average mileage on a gallon, Foster ?" "How the deuce should I know ?" Foster snapped, just coming out of a doze.
"You ought to know, with your own car--and gas costing what it does." "Oh!--ah--what was it you asked ?" Foster yawned aloud.

"I musta been asleep." "I guess you musta been, all right," Bud grunted.