It was like this was coordinated, for she floored the gas pedal, & the bus barely missed the front fender. “Nice!” he whispered. But just as he praised her manuvering skills, they rammed the back into a dilapidated fountain. Groaning, he remembered what his grandma had said time & time again: Don’t go praising your luck, you’ll jinx it. And boy, was that ever true.
“Not. A. Word,” she hissed as the gumshoe strolled across the street to their wreck, chuckling.
“How was your joyride?” he asked, amused. Neither of them answered. The inspector continued. “She was a good car, but not enough somehow. Almost glad you wrecked her.” He ran his hand over the scuffed hood fondly. Then something came over him, & took a good look at his face, then her face. He shied away, she glared defiantly back.
“Got something on me, Gramps?” she asked. He smiled goodnaturedly at her.
“Maybe. I need to have a talk with both of yous. No need to worry, I’m probably not going to turn you in.”
He hated the way he said “probably.”