[Spoken]
So now it's just Tinker, me, Tinker's dog, thousands of miles to go, and we got several problems, one is I have no license. Second problem is I don't have a clue as to how to drive. And by that I mean the man who would very very shortly write "Racing in the Street" - that's how good I am. Because at 21, I had never driven a fucking block. Around 1 or 2 AM, Tinker's eyes glass over and he says, "I'm fried. I need to get some sleep. It's your turn to drive". I go, "Tink, I can't drive". He says, "Springsteen, there's nothing to it. Idiots all over the world are doin' it". "Oh yeah?" He pulls me into a parking lot, he puts me behind the wheel, I start grindin' gears, pumpin' the clutch, jerkin' the truck all over the lot, it's a 1940's manual transmission and I can't get past first gear! After a moment Tinker says, "This isn't gonna work". But I got another idea. He gets in the driver's seat. He slips in the clutch. He smoothly shifts it into first. He eases out on the clutch. He gets that truck goin' on a sweet little roll, looks at me and says, "Now let's switch seats". And that's what we did. I was fine in second, third, and fourth, and I could keep it in between the lines as long as I didn't have to stop or go near first gear. If I gotta do either of those things I have to wake up Mr. West, alright. Now, it doesn't matter because he's awake anyway, because the guy who can't drive is drivin'! You're not gonna sleep through that! So, uh, you'd be surprised how far you can go across this big country without having to stop, ya know, it's, it's a long ways between things out there, and man I drove my share. 2000 miles in second, third, and fourth gear. Without killing anybody. Uh, and we made it on time, ya know, but - that trip was, was where I saw the United States at its fullest, and as a young man I was overwhelmed by its size and its beauty and, this is a short piece from the book about riding across the country for the very first time. The country was beautiful, and I felt a great elation at the wheel as we crossed the western desert at dawn. The deep blue, purple shadow canyons, pale yellow morning sky, all of its color drawn out, leaving just the black silhouetted mountains in your rear view mirror. And then with the eastern sun rising at our backs, the deep reds and the browns of the plains and the hills came to life slowly in front of us. Our palms turned salty white on the wheel from the aridity. Morning woke the earth into this muted color, and then came the flat light of the midday sun, and everything stood revealed as pure horizon. Just sky, sky, sky, and more sky. Lowering on the two lanes of black top, and disappearing into nothing. My favorite thing. Then the evening, with the sun burning red into your eyes, and droppin' gold into the western hills in front of ya. All felt like home to me. And I fell into a lasting love affair with the desert