We filled round what was called the backtown for a bit, scaring old vecks and cheenas that were crossing the roads and zigzagging after cats and that.
Then we took the road west There wasn't much traffic about, so I kept pushing the old noga through the floorboards near, and the Durango 95 ate up the road like spaghetti.
Soon it was winter trees and dark, my brothers, with a country dark, and at one place I ran over something big with a snarling toothy rot in the headlamps, then it screamed and squelched under and old Dim at the back near laughed his gulliver off- ‘Ho ho ho' -at that.
Then we saw one young malchick with his sharp, lubbilubbing under a tree, so we stopped and cheered at them, then we bashed into them bo^ with a couple of half-hearted tolchocks, making them cry, and on we went...
This was the car they stole and were driving:
