She pursed her lips. Inside the car she could see seats, straps, a wheel. It was incomprehensible that he strapped himself in and hurtled through the streets. "It's a stupid thing to do," she said. "You'll get killed."
"No," he said.
"If you hit something you will. I've heard those atrocity stories. There were more people killed in automobiles from—"
"Nothing to hit," he said.
She flung out her arms. "Buildings! Poles!" His lack of response offended her.
"No need to hit them."
"I've seen the films!" She had seen the crumpled metal, the severed limbs, the spreading blood.
"Driver error. No drivers left. Too expensive on government allowance."
"No one stupid enough left, you mean!" But it was stupid to glare when he wouldn't frown. "Okay, what's it feel like?" she demanded.
He lifted his shoulders and dropped them.