I added that I would go along, if she liked; which she did.

Not even the Little Woman should ever attempt to drive across the Mojave alone.
We started out as soon as we had finished the meal.

A Cadillac roadster came up behind us and honked for clear passing as we swung into the long, straight stretch that leads up the Cajon.

The Little Woman peered into the rear vision mirror and pressed the toe of her white pump upon the accelerator.
"There's only one man in the world that can pass ME on the road," the Little Woman drawled, "and he doesn't wear a panama!" As we snapped around the turns of Cajon Grade, I looked back once or twice.

The Cadillac roadster was still following pertinaciously, but it was too far back to honk at us.