Lost at Rare Earth

Jethro Tull was fuming. His new bride had insisted on taking a short cut to Brownsville Station, but the road had first turned to mud, and then he was driving through a field. He had no idea how much damage he was doing smashing pumpkins.
By some miracle he somehow found himself once again on tarmac. He looked for other cars, but there was no traffic at all. Mrs Labelle Tull got out of the vehicle and was immediately up to her shin in mud.
“You bloody twit!” Labelle said, “You parked there on purpose. What a cheap trick. Now my pants have got a nitty gritty dirt band.”
“Listen, blondie, if you hadn't insisted I drive through Rare Earth farms we would not be lost now!”
His wife had stopped listening and was staring behind him, looking like a white zombie twirling her golden earring. Tull turned around and saw some men at work repairing God knows what, but they didn't seem to be in any rush. Some men without hats were holding a sign announcing they were working on something called the Allen Parson's Project.
“What are you gawping at, Belle?” he said.
“Wait for it. They're behing the trees just now. There! See them? A group of barenaked ladies riding bikes.”
“Judas priest! What the--” Now the group of ladies had cleared the trees and Jethro could see them better. “Well,” he said. “At least they're not all bare naked ladies. I see four tops.”
Labelle said,”Oh, you're right. Ooh, and one is wearing a ZZ top. That's pretty pricy.”
After the bevy of unclad women had passed Labelle asked the workmen how to get to Brownsville Station while her new husband cleared the wheel wells and fenders of any grass roots.