But Sam sat in silence on the back seat looking out of the window at the people turning their heads to watch the big red car go by, and he didn't like it.
He didn't like the long, cold, empty seat next to him - it was wide enough for four - and the red leather was all worn and stained. And he didn't like the chipped chrome buckle and the stained webbing of the seatbelt. And most of all, he didn't like that shape in the seat next to him, because it was like there was a person sitting there that he couldn't see, riding in the car with them.
1