"What?" That non-sequitur interrupted T.R.'s careful observation of his master's methods.
"Headliners were made of white vinyl. They had little pinholes in them. Don't know why, maybe kept the glue from coming loose from the heat. Who the hell knows why Germans do anything? If you stretched out in the back of an old VW and stared at the ceiling, after a while you couldn't tell if the pinholes were in the fabric, or floating above it."
"Did it help to be stoned?"
That earned him a sharp look. "Of course it helped to be stoned. It always helps to be stoned. There's more than one reason we call ourselves grassland wizards, boy."
"So..." T.R. tried to divine the point of A.P.'s ramble.
"So, look at these here prints, boy." He jabbed at the disturbed grass with the mechanical pencil. "See the grass? They's coming up out of the earth, not pounded down in."