if you were a bad writer you wont be driving a car like this.
I bet this one will go 129mph.
I'll bet she won't. do it. All car-makers are liars.
I had a new car. It was an exciting toy, a big BMW 3.3 Li, which means 3.3 litres, long wheelbase, fuel injection. It had a top speed of 129 mph and terrific acceleration. The body was pale blue.
do you know what the speed limit in this country
Ahead of me I saw a man thumbing a lift. I touched the brake and brought the car to a stop beside him. I always stopped for hitchhikers.
here is a quick performance.
"What makes you think that I’m any good at my job?" I asked. "There's an awful lot of bad writers around" "You wouldn't be drivin' about in a car like this if you weren't good at it," he answered. "What can she do flat out?" he asked "One hundred and twenty-nine miles an hour," I told him. "I'll bet she won't do it." "I'll bet she will." "All car-makers are liars," he said. "This one will." "Open 'er up then and prove it,"
"Me? I'm a fingersmith. I'm a professional fingersmith."
He was a big meaty man with a belly, and his blue breeches were skin-tight around his enormous thighs. His goggles were pulled up onto the helmet showing a smouldering red face with wide cheeks. "What's the hurry?" he said. "No hurry, officer," I answered. "Perhaps there's a woman in the back having a baby and you're rushing her to the hospital? Is that it?" "No, officer." "Or perhaps your house is on fire and you're dashing home to rescue the family from upstairs?" "My house isn't on fire, officer."
well you were going 50 miles PAST THE LIMIT!
"I think you do care," he said. "I am in a very peculiar trade. I'm in the queerest peculiar trade of 'em all. I waited for him to go on. "That's why I 'as to be extra careful oo' I’m talkin' to, you see. 'Ow am I to know, for instance, you're not another copper in plain clothes?" "Do I look like a copper?" "No," he said. He took from his pocket a tin of tobacco and a packet of cigarette papers and started to roll a cigarette. It was rolled and ready in about five seconds.
"My job," he went on, "is a hundred times more difficult than playin' the piano. Any twerp can learn to do that." "Of course it's right. But there's not one person in ten million can learn to do what I do. Not one in ten million! 'Ow about that?" “Amazing," I said. "You're dam right it's amazin'," he said. "I think I know what you do;" I said. "You do conjuring tricks." "Me?" he snorted. " A conjuror? Can you picture me goin' round crummy kids' parties makin' rabbits come out of top 'ats?""All right. I give up."