46
I take the wheel of Naomi's clapped-out Beetle, pushing the seat right back so my knees aren't up around my ears. I put the key in the ignition and turn. A cough and an apology from the engine. I turn again, get nothing.
"You have to let the choke out," Naomi says.
Christ, the choke. I haven't had a car with a choke in years. I try again and it's third time lucky.
The sun is on the rise and the dawn growing lighter. I pull the Beetle away from the kerb and head towards the end of the street.
At the end of the street, there's a crossroads wide enough to swing the car around one-eighty. I make the turn and head back where we came from. But only a short distance. I pull in sharp to the kerb on the right-hand side of the street and bring the car to a stop.
"What are you doing?" Naomi
