He pounded his steering wheel, kicked the floor, thumped his cassette player till it suddenly started playing Barry Manilow, thumped it again till it stopped, and swore and swore and swore and swore and swore. It was at the very moment that his fury was peaking that there loomed swimmingly in his headlights, hardly visible through the blatter, a figure by the roadside. A poor bedraggled figure, strangely attired, wetter than an otter in a washing machine, and hitching. Poor miserable sod, thought Rob McKeena to himself, realizing that here was somebody with a better right to feel hard done by than himself, must be chilled to the bone. Stupid to be out hitching on a filthy night like this. All you get is cold, wet, and lorries driving through puddles at you. He shook his head grimly, heaved another sigh, gave the wheel a turn and hit a large sheet of water square on. See what I mean? he thought to himself as he ploughed swiftly through it. You get some right bastards on the road. Splattered in his rear mirror a couple of seconds later was the reflection of the hitch-hiker, drenched by the roadside. For a moment he felt good about this. A moment or two later he felt bad about feeling good about it. Then he felt good about feeling bad about feeling good about it and, satisfied, drove on into the night. At least it made up for having been finally overtaken by that Porsche he had been diligently blocking for the last twenty miles. And as he drove on, the rainclouds dragged down the sky after him, for, though he did not know it, Rob McKeena was a Rain God. All he knew was that his working days were miserable and he had a succession of lousy holidays. All the clouds knew was that they loved him and wanted to be near him, to cherish him, and to water him. 他捶着方向盤，踹着地板，敲打着磁帶機直到機器開始播放巴瑞.曼尼洛（注）的歌，隨後又敲打了一遍直到機器閉嘴，並且不斷地詛咒，詛咒，詛咒，詛咒，再詛咒。 就在這個非常時刻，在他的怒火熊熊燃燒之時，有一個路邊的身影在車燈的亮光中閃現，在一片雨霧中很難看清。 那是一個倒黴的落湯雞，打扮得很奇怪，比一張洗衣機裏的水獺皮還溼，而且正試圖搭個便車。 “真是個倒黴孩子，”羅勃.麥克基納想着，意識到這裏居然有個人比他自己還有權利去悲哀，“一定是凍僵了。在這麼一個悽慘的夜晚還在外面搭便車，簡直笨透了。你所能得到的就是悽風苦雨以及經過的大卡車濺你一身泥。” 他無情地搖了搖頭，又嘆了一口氣，讓輪子轉向一邊，趟進了一大片水窪。 “明白了麼？”他一邊琢磨着，一邊很快地把車整過那片水窪。“你在這條路上碰到了一些真正的混蛋。” 幾秒種後，那個搭便車者出現在了他的後視鏡上，渾身溼透。 有一會兒，他覺得這麼幹很爽。一會兒或兩會兒之後，他對於自己的爽快又覺得有些不爽。接着他又對自己的對爽快感到不爽而感到非常爽，於是滿意地駛入了夜幕。 至少這種爽的感覺彌補了剛纔被自己艱難堵截了二十英里的保時捷最終超車所帶來的不爽。 他一邊開着，雨雲就一邊跟着他，因爲（他自己還不知道）羅勃.麥克基納其實是個雨神。他自己只知道他的工作日很悲哀，而他的假日則會延續這種悲哀。而所有的雨雲都知道，它們喜歡他，想要湊近他，抱緊他，把他淋個透。
