Thirty feet from me stood a dirt-caked black touring car. That would be the one in which Gooseneck had driven back from Mexicali.
I jumped for it, climbed in, brought it to life, and pointed it at the dust-cloud ahead.
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Thirty feet from me stood a dirt-caked black touring car. That would be the one in which Gooseneck had driven back from Mexicali.
I jumped for it, climbed in, brought it to life, and pointed it at the dust-cloud ahead.