We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember Dean Dark saying something like:
I think Jerry was fishing for 'vested'. Kinda brings up a picture of Jerry, tin mug of tea and rollup in hand, clad in dirty old jeans and an oilstained vest, sitting on a oilstained bench at the back of the workshop, shouting abuse at anyone passing by the doors.