When we last left Carl and Emma, Carl had stumbled on a moonshine operation in North Carolina and they were arrested with the nice folks who ran the still. They were loaded into a large green box van and driven to a nearby town, where they awaited booking and jailing. Emma cried crocodile tears the entire way back, much to the dismay of Carl and his new friends.

Stanhope sighed and said, "Shoot, I'm sorry, Carl. They wasn't due to raid us for another three or four weeks. Didn't mean for you nice folks to get your buns busted. Somebody musta forgot to pay off deputy Scumwald. He's supposed to get his two hunnert bucks a week regular as clockwork."

Carl spit a glob of chewing tobacco on the wall of the van. "Heck, that's OK, Stanhope. Wasn't your fault. We used to make our own drinking stuff when I was in the Navy. My favorite was Aqua Velva aftershave lotion and orange juice. Kept me occupied when I was out at sea, ya know. Anyways, what happens next?"

Stanhope scratched his straggly beard. "Well, they'll book us and bust up the still. Then they'll confiscate all the shine and probably make a tidy profit on it when they sell it to our regular customers. Ya know, we're proud of our brew. It's all natural ... no additives or junk like that. Just straight rotgut."

Emma whimpered in the corner. "Will it be the gas chamber or the firing squad, Stanhope?"

"Now, pretty lady, don't you worry none. Way I figure it is this. We post bail and maybe pay five hunnert bucks each in fines, then it's business as usual."

Emma wailed. " But I'll be a criminal! I'll be branded for life! They'll yank my 4x4 Owners Club license and I won't be able to get my 20 year pin!"

Carl looked at the rusty ceiling and sighed.

An hour later, the box van stopped and the dangerous prisoners were unloaded and herded into the jailhouse. A very large officer with several chins and a beer gut the size of a juke box motioned for them to have a seat. Huge patches of sweat stained the underarms of his shirt all the way down to his belt. A basket of 30-weight French fries sat on a pile of reports and a light layer of oil gleamed on the papers.

He sat down in front of an ancient Underwood manual typewriter and poked one key at a time with a huge forefinger. Every third word or so, he made a mistake and swore under his breath, as he was forced to correct it with an eraser.

Two hours later, he had all the reports done and herded the men into one cell, and clanked the door shut. He turned to Emma. "M'am, we ain't got no cell for women, so if you'd like, you can just sort of hang around the A&W Root beer stand next door. Or take in a movie. You don't look like the criminal type to me. Just make sure you show up here by tomorrow at nine AM when Judge Pinrod shows up. Okey dokey?"

Emma sniffed back the tears. "Can I call my lawyer?"

Carl yelled from the cell, "Emma, we ain't got a lawyer. Now go see a movie or something. Better yet, find out where they impounded The Whale and make sure it's OK."

Emma shuffled out, head hung low.

Carl looked around the cell and took a seat as far away as he could from the three winos sleeping on the floor. Stanhope already had a game of cards going with Luke and one of the deputies. Carl slumped down against a wall.

Three hours later, Carl was rudely wakened by the huge officer with the huger sweat stains. "Hey, you the guy what owns the big four-wheel-drive truck?"

"It's a Suburban, and yes, that's me. Why do you ask?"

"Well, seems that we just got a call over the radio. The Judge is stuck out in the woods over by Blister Creek. He went off the road trying to miss some stupid deer and he's stuck bad. Couple of guys tried to get him out and now they're stuck, too. Feel like lending a hand?"

"Why should I even think about helping that ... "

Ooooof! An elbow to the ribs by Stanhope stopped Carl in mid-sentence. "Sure, Officer Blint. My friend here would be glad to help out his honor. All we gotta do is make a small repair on his radiator first. Fred at the Texaco station can fix it up quick, and then we can get the Judge took care of."

Officer Blint grunted. "Good. But I'm going with you clowns, and if anyone makes a break for it, or tries anything funny, I'll shoot you a whole bunch of times and throw you back in jail later on. Got it?"

The men gulped. They had it.

The trail was rougher than Carl had imagined! A dirt road deteriorated into a miserable dirt road, which in turn degenerated into a sloppy muddy two-track bordering an evil-looking yellow water creek.

Officer Blint and Stanhope were wide-eyed as Carl fought the steering wheel and The Whale wallowed from side to side. Officer Blint spat a huge glob of tobacco juice out of the driver's side window and said, "We ain't gonna get stuck, are we? it gets worse further on up. We had us a lot of rain the last two weeks and this is lowlands, ya know."

Carl emitted a hearty laugh. "'Officer Blunt, I ... "

"That's Blint."

"Yeh, that's what I said. Anyway Officer Bonk, this here Suburban has a 454 under the hood, and it ain't even close to being stock. And those 44-inch Gumbo Mudders ain't on the wheels for decoration. I could probably idle straight up the side of a redwood tree if you'd clear the brush off."

Stanhope looked a bit green around the edges as The Whale's front end lifted over a rise, then slammed down to the ground.

"Are you gonna rip the front end off this thing, Carl?"

"Hey, calm down, Stanhood. I got 14 Ranchos up front and 18 of the puppies in the rear. The Whale can take a bump!"

Officer Blint pointed a finger straight ahead. "Carl,
we got to climb up this steep hill after you go around this here bend coming up. When it's dry, you got a 50/50 chance of making it to the top. when it's wet, well ... if it's just the same to you, I'll get out and walk up while you take your shot at it""

"What! And let me escape! Nope, you just hang on Officer Blimp and ... "

"That's Blint!"

"Yeh, that's what I said. You got one of those French fries stuck in your ear? Just hold on to the door real good and I'll give you one a those Disneyland E-ticket rides up the hill."

Carl saw the hill up ahead, and it was, indeed, a nasty one. He knew that the only way to conquer this hill was to use momentum. Muddy slick uphills do not usually offer a great deal of traction.

Carl stopped and studied the hill for a few moments, with the engine idling comfortably in neutral. He put The Whale in reverse and backed up as far as he could and lined The Whale up straight and true with the hill.

He then smiled an evil smile and said, "Hang on, Officer Blintz . We're goin' hill climbing!!!"

Carl clicked the shifter into second gear in four low, and pinned it. The mighty 454 hesitated for a micro-second, then The Whale lunged forward like a Top Fuel dump truck. The tach read 6500 rpm and the Econo-meter blipped red lines and told Carl that he was getting 1.2 miles per gallon at the moment.

The Whale charged up the base of the hill and hit the first jump wide open. The engine screamed its guts out as all four wheels cleared the ground, then snapped the heads back on all the occupants as The Whale hit the ground and threw four giant rooster tails.

The Whale continued its charge up the hill straight and true. Carl kept the wheels in the ruts and the pedal stayed right on the metal. About 50 yards from the top, The Whale started to bog down in the deep mud and Officer Blint yelled, "We're gonna die!"

Carl just smiled and reached over to the dash and flipped a chrome toggle switch. Immediately, the engine barked and emitted a huge roar. "Nitrous oxide, Officer Blump. Kicks in another 250 horsepower or so."

Stanhope clawed his fingers into the seat back and started singing Rock Of Ages at the top of his voice, and Officer Blint merely closed his eyes while his sweat stain doubled in size.

Amazingly, The Whale clawed over the top cleanly and sailed 30 feet past the crest, landing neatly on the downslope.

Stanhope stopped singing and clapped Carl on the back. Officer Blint let out a mighty breath of air, that smelled like a MacDonalds counter.

Ten minutes later, they came upon the carnage of the Judge stuck off the side of the road and two other trucks buried to the cross-members.

Carl got out and took charge. "Which one a you guys is the Judge?"

"I am. Judge Pinrod at your service. And I thank you for coming to our rescue."

"Well, listen up, Judge Pinhead ... "

"That's Pinrod, sir."

"That's what I said. Anyways, you get in that truck of yours and point the wheels up toward the road, I'll get the winch out. Don't fire it up until I tell you. And when I do tell you, I want you to pin it. I hope you got a V8 under the hood of that Dodge."

"Nope. It's a six. But it's a good one."

"Judge Pinwheel, there ain't no such thing as a good six. Whatever. When I give you the signal, floor it."

Carl strung out the winch cable and hooked it to the front of the Dodge truck, then gave the signal. The engine roared and the winch whined ... and the bumper of the Dodge ripped off and flew over the trees, out of sight.

Carl grunted. "Maybe I should have hooked it to the frame instead. Let's give it another shot. And this time, pay attention."

Stanhope looked up at the sky and moaned quietly.

Carl rooted around underneath the Dodge and hooked the winch around a frame rail, then got the winch taut. He nailed the winch lever and gave the Judge the signal. The winch whined and strained, but started pulling the buried truck out of the goo.

Judge Pinrod screamed the throttle and the Dodge shuddered and shook, and eventually rose free from the mud. Two minutes later, the Dodge was up on level ground again, blowing steam like a 200 year old train.

Ten more minutes of work had the other two trucks free, and hearty smiles were exchanged by all.

An hour and a half later, they were back at the jail and the Judge decided to hold the hearing right there on the spot.

"I find the defendants sort of guilty, but because of their willingness to help a neighbor in need, the charges are officially dropped. Now, if'n y'all will join me down at the Rusty Nail Bar and Grill and Bar, I'm buying drinks for the house."

Carl beamed and Emma beamed even more. "Oh, Carl! We're not criminals. In fact, we're heroes! I'm so proud of you!"

For the first time in his life, Carl blushed. "Hey, don't thank me, honey pot. Thank Judge Pinhead, here."

"That's Pinrod."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Now let's go have us a couple or three beers."