The Dirty Streets Of Heaven: Volume One Of Bobby Dollar - Plot & Excerpts
In my experience they seem to be much more pragmatic about the whole thing than we are. For most males, driving is an extension of their masculinity; they have little fantasy scenarios going all the time—races, chases, and dramatic combat with other drivers. Females, on the other hand, generally seem to view driving as something you do to get somewhere. I know, crazy. As we sped away from the scene of my most recent escape from the ghallu, I noted with interest that the Countess of Cold Hands was not one of that usual type. She was aggressive, and she drove fast, but with a self-assured inattention, too. She also drove mostly one-handed, but that might have been because her not-so-dainty CZ 75 automatic was in her left hand now, resting on her thigh but pointing in my direction. “So why did you have a chauffeur before? Because you seem to like doing this.” “You mean Cinnamon? Most of the time I’ve got better things to do than drive. But as I told you before, things have changed—I’ve been forced to downsize a bit.”
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