[Sort-of Closed Log]

[brotimaeus]

Who: Bro Strider & any unfortunate kids that decided they'd like to learn to drive. Also open to anyone who'd like a chat while he's waiting!
What: I think the 'who' pretty much explains the 'what', here. Clear the streets.
When: October 15th.

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[Were you one of those poor unfortunate lucky souls who agreed to take driving lessons from this guy? Don't worry, he's almost 100% sane when he's behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Almost.

He'll sound the horn to let whoever he's waiting for know he's there - maybe he'll send a text if he's waiting for too long - but when they come out they'll find him behind the wheel, tapping his fingers gently against it and idly nodding to a beat only he can hear.

Get right in, kid, the door's open.]

Comments

[callbacks]

[Dave turns away from the window to glance at Bro, then looks at the gear used to make the car go. Wheel, pedals, rearview mirror, the thingie that changes the gears, the air vents...

He does have a question.]

When you say we're going somewhere away from the population--[He lifts an eyebrow.]--are you saying I can go as fast as I want.

[brotimaeus]

Nice try, kiddo.

[He pulls into an industrial car park, cleared out for the day save for a few lingering trucks, and stops the car.]

I'm sayin' you can go as fast as I let you.

[callbacks]

So, what, five miles an hour?

[Dave unclicks his seatbelt and looks at Bro expectantly.]

[brotimaeus]

If you're lucky.

[He smirks and unbuckles his own seatbelt, stepping out of the driver-side door and moving around the car.]

C'mon, Dave. Hop to it.