Resumen
To get there you follow Highway 58, going northeast out of the city, and it is a good highway and new. Or was new, that day we went up it. You look up the highway and it is straight for miles, coming at you, with the black line down the center coming at and at you, black and slick and tarry-shining against the white of the slab, and the heat dazzles up from the white slab so that only the black line is clear, coming at you with the whine of the tires, and if you dont quit staring at that line and dont take a few deep breaths and slap yourself hard on the back of the neck youll hypnotize yourself and youll come to just at the moment when the right front wheel hooks over into the black dirt shoulder off the slab, and youll try to jerk her back on but you cant because the slab is high like a curb, and maybe youll try to reach to turn off the ignition just as she starts the dive. But you wont make it, of course. Then a nigger chopping cotton a mile away, hell look up and see the little column of black smoke standing up above the vitriolic, arsenical green of the cotton rows, and up against the violent, metallic, throbbing blue of the sky, and hell say, "Lawd God, hits a-nudder one done done hit!" And the next nigger down the next row, hell say, "Lawd God" and the first nigger will giggle, and the hoe will lift again and the blade will flash in the sun like a heliograph. Then a few days later the boys from the Highway Department will mark the spot with a little metal square on a metal rod stuck in the black dirt off the shoulder, the metal square painted white and on it in black a skull and crossbones. Later on love vine will climb up it, out of the weeds.
