Run into Trouble

above 200 feet. Because it’s Saturday, there will be weekend traffic.
    ***
    What they didn’t expect to see were hitchhiking hippies, off to commune with nature in the Big Sur where their troubles would vanish in a puff of smoke. The girls, ranging from twenty-something to teenage, wore long hair and long skirts with loose blouses covering bare skin and lugged bedrolls or backpacks. The boys had equally long hair, and except for their dress, it was sometimes difficult to tell one sex from the other from behind.
    Most were headed north; they stationed themselves on the right side of the road, trying to grab rides with weekenders who had carloads of children. When a Volkswagen camper with flowers painted on the sides that wasn’t already packed came along, it was like manna from heaven to them.
    The runners and the hippies stared at each other as the former flashed by. They came from two different worlds, separated by a narrow strip of asphalt. Drake saw good looking girls and wondered what would happen to them if they were picked up by the wrong man. That made him speculate about free love. Which made him wonder when some of them had last washed, as he got a closer look at straggly hair and dirty clothes.
    Melody interrupted his reverie. “If I were the mother of those girls, I’d lock them up until they were thirty-five.”
    “You’re too young to be their mother. You’re not even thirty-five, yourself.”
    “I’d lock myself up, too. I’m thinking ahead. I might get married some day, you know.”
    Married. Drake pictured himself being married once in a while, but never seriously. However, it did have its attractions, abundant sex being one of them. He decided to change the subject before Melody guessed his thoughts. “It looks like we’re going to be running in a posse all day. No chance to excel on this road. We’ll be on it for a long time.”
    “There will be other opportunities. We’ve moved up to fifth place. Who would have guessed that when we started out? At least we shouldn’t lose ground to anyone.”
    In fact, several of the teams were lagging behind the group with various ailments affecting feet and knees.
    Melody spoke again. “What do you think Blade’s up to? Isn’t this a job for the U.S. Army, Navy, and Marines?” She sang, “From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Lion Rock.”
    “Blade sees a conspiracy based on the fact that we were present at Malibu and also the ones who found the sub.”
    “So we’re working for the Russkies?”
    “Not us. Somebody at Giganticorp.”
    “Meaning Casey. He’s the top dog. Why would he do that?”
    “Who knows? Maybe he’s an idealist.”
    “Idealists are fine as long as they don’t actually try to do anything. You said that Slick is going to meet us at our motel, which I understand is in Cambria. At least he’s not going to show up in his Porsche around the bend somewhere.”
    “I nixed that idea. This isn’t like the first time when we were so far behind that stopping for a few minutes to chat with Slick didn’t matter.”
    They were passing a house on the ocean side of the road with a sign that read, “This place dangerous to dogs, children, and reasonable people.” The yard was strewn with junk.
    Drake smiled. At least they were warned.
    ***
    Drake and Melody were amazed at the magnificent buildings and the Olympian style swimming pool on the barren hillside above the sea. They were even more surprised at what they saw within the buildings.
    Melody read the information brochure. “It says that Hearst collected items in hundreds of different categories. Including ceilings. I say, who in their right mind collects ceilings?”
    They were gazing up at one of those ceilings at the moment, brought over in pieces from some medieval castle in Europe and reassembled in its current habitat.
    “The man thought big. You can’t deny that.”
    Drake and Melody jerked their heads down to the horizontal. There was no mistaking that resonant voice. Slick smiled easily at them from behind his dark glasses. They helped him take on the coloring of a tourist, along with a garish sport shirt and white sneakers. Only his powerful-looking arms and flat stomach gave away the fact that he probably wasn’t driving one of those campers with the wide outside mirrors that the runners had to dodge all day, like a matador evading the horns of the bull.
    Drake said, “I’m glad to see that you enjoy the finer things in life.”
    “Thought