‘Well,’ I mused, as the car began to bounce and shake underneath us. ‘That doesn’t sound great.’
‘It’s never done this before,’ Micha frowned from the driver’s seat, his fingers clenched around the steering wheel.’
‘Do you need to pull over?’ I asked nervously, clinging to the handle above my door.
‘What if it doesn’t start up again?’ he asked, eyes flicking back and forth from the shuddering steering wheel and the pitch-black dirt road.
‘What if a wheel falls off and we go careening into a ditch?!’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Micha rolled his eyes, then wrenched the wheel back with a startled yelp.
‘We almost drove into a ditch then, didn’t we?’
‘I don’t have to answer that,’ he said, refusing to make eye contact. ‘Look, we just have to make it to Underwood, then I promise you we’ll pull over.’
‘Do you know any good mechanics near Underwood?’ I frowned. ‘Do you know anybody near Underwood?’
‘An uncle,’ he insisted. ‘Once. He moved. Before I was born.’
‘Micha!’
‘What choice do we have?’
‘Not dying?’
‘Again, with the being so dramatic,’ he said – although I noticed that his fingers were firmly wrapped around the wheel this time.
‘How expensive is suspension repair?’ I asked, trying a different tact.
‘What?’
‘Well, all this damage you’re doing to your suspension,’ I said, nonchalantly. ‘It won’t be cheap to fix. You know that, right? I was just curious if you had an exact number in mind already.’
‘This is what the suspension is built for,’ he said, sounding very unsure of himself. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Not really,’ I grunted, as we hit a particularly big bump. ‘Just, pull over, we’ll call your roadside assistance and get a mechanic out here to tell us what to do.’
‘Uh…’ Micha grimaced. ‘Alternatively…’
‘You don’t have roadside assistance?’
‘I never saw the need,’ he whined.
‘Can you see it now?!’
‘Obviously, I can see it now!’
And, right on cue – the engine cut out.