SIXTEEN
The automobile! The automobile! The automobile! The steed of the modern era, made from wires and sheets of metal, a symbol of power, speed and a life of extravagant luxury. How could you not soar with joy once you learned you would have the honour of driving one of the most splendid and beautiful cars in Tripoli. You would ride around the city in it, go from place to place like the rich and powerful. When you had begun driver’s training, you had thought it was one of the military assignments you would be charged with during the war. Now you knew different. The car you would drive after a few days would be a civilian car, one belonging to the governor of the country. It would not do for anyone to own a more magnificent car than his. You would run errands for Signora Houriya, and in
