Get in there, you, and drive in to San Berdoo.

I'll be right with you, so you needn't forget the road!" He stepped back to his motorcycle and pushed it forward.
"Hey! Don't I git paid fer my gas ?" the garage man wailed, pulling a dripping nozzle from Casey's gas tank.
"Aw, go tahell!" Casey grunted, and threw a wadded bank note in his direction.

"Take that an' shut up.

What yuh cryin' around about a gallon uh gas, fer?
YOU ain't pinched!" The money landed near the motorcycle and the officer picked it up, smoothed out the bill, glanced at it and looked through tightened lids at Casey.
"Throwin' money around like a hootch-runner!" he sneered.

"I guess you birds need lookn' after, all right.