A poem constructed mostly of quotes from Finder, by Emma Bull. That book is one of my babies. Just saying that I love it doesn't cover the thrill that I get from reading it. It's about a guy who lives in Bordertown, a place right between The Elflands and our world, and goes on fantastic adventures :)
Sunny Rico had a car. They're not common in Bordertown, because a motorcycle is so much easier to spell-power. Cars are a luxury some people choose to afford.
"Triumph Spitfire," Rico said, pride in her voice. She loved that car like family. This one was close to the ground, shaped in needle points and glossy curves. It looked as if it ate road surface for breakfast. It was a car that fit Sunny Rico.
I got in the passenger side. I was sitting in a nest of nylon that I finally realized was a racing harness: lap belt and straps over both shoulders, fastened by one quick-release. Then I realized that the arc of metal over the top of the car was a roll bar. I shot a look at Rico: "Do I need a fire suit?"
"I drive like an idiot," she said, embarrassed.
She did, too.
Her car was my passageway to adventure. It was a dangerously addictive vehicle. When do you stop the adventure? Only when you are so horrified that you cannot continue.
"Is this going to be dangerous?"
"I hope not." Rico swiveled to look at me. "Do you know how to drive a stick?"
"What? What does that-"
"If I don't make it out of here, drive back to The Station and tell 'em what happened."
Of course I could drive a stick. It's practically a prerequisite to adventuring.
Sparks spat out from under that dashboard, once, twice. "Oh, crap," said Sunny, "Not the wiring again. Can you see anything?" That car is a pretty straightforward machine. So it wasn't hard to spot the taped-up bundle. "It's a bomb." Jump. Jump. Jump! There was the roaring rushing sound of the explosion, and the racket of breaking glass.
"Do you know how many of those were left in the world?" Sunny said, still looking at the river. I figured out that she meant the car. "More than there are now."
"It's not funny. I slaved over that car. I loved that car." Sunny's attachment to the Spitfire reminded me of Tick-Tick, which reminded me of something else. "We still have wheels. Come on."
Tick-Tick's bike was parked in the garage. "Can you drive it?" Sunny asked.
"D'you think the two of us would have gone out into the Nevernever alone if only one of us know how to drive the bike to get us back?" Of course I could drive the bike.
"We had to borrow your bike. Sunny's car got blown up." Tick-Tick shook her head a little. "A Triumph Spitfire. The dearest things - part of their value is that they cannot last."
The value of adventure is that it cannot last.