at and had the blister window open. He grinned
up at Martin. "Boy, am I glad to see you, officer," he said.

"What's the problem?" Ben asked.

"I guess she blew an impeller," the youth answered. "We were heading
for a school dance at Cincinnati and she was boiling along like she
was in orbit when blooey she just quit."

Ben surveyed the old jet sedan. "What year is this clunker?" he asked.
The kid told him. "You kids have been told not to use this lane for
any vehicle that old." He waved his hand in protest as the youngster
started to tell him how many modifications he had made on the car. "It
doesn't make one bit of difference whether you've put a first-stage
Moon booster on this wreck. It's not supposed to be in the blue or
yellow. And this thing probably shouldn't have been allowed out of the
white--or even on the thruway."

The youngster flushed and bit his lip in embarrassment at the giggles
from the two evening-frocked girls in the car.

"Well, let's get you out of here." Ben touched his throat mike. "Drop
a light, Clay and then let's haul this junk pile away."

In the patrol car, Ferguson reached down beside his seat and tugged at
a lever. From a recess in Beulah's stern, a big portable red warning
light dropped to the pavement. As it touched the surface, it
automatically flashed to life, sending out a bright, flashing red
warning signal into the face of any approaching traffic. Clay eased
the patrol car around the stalled vehicle and then backed slow into
position, guided by Martin's radioed instructions. A tow-bar extruded
from the back of the police vehicle and a magnaclamp locked onto the
front end of the teenager's car. The older officer walked back to the
portable warning light and rolled it on its four wheels to the rear
plate of the jalopy where another magnalock secured it to the car.
Beulah's two big rear warning lights still shone above the low
silhouette of the passenger car, along with the mobile lamp on the
jalopy. Martin walked back to the patrol car and climbed in.

He slid into his seat and nodded at Clay. The patrol car, with the
disabled vehicle in tow moved forward and slanted left towards the
police lane. Martin noted the mileage marker on the radiodometer and
fingered the transmitter. "Chillicothe Control this is Car 56."

"This Chillicothe. Go ahead Five Six."

"We picked up some kids in a stalled heap on the blue at Marker 382
and we've got them in tow now," Ben said. "Have a wre