Adams may have been a steady voice of reason and dependability, but don’t let that fool you: The guy drives like a maniac. Especially when he has made it his mission to make sure I didn’t miss my date with Nancy.
We tore through the streets of Golden City in Adams’ personal black car. The way Adams drove, you’d think we were in the Rubbermobile. As it was, Adams showed no sign of fear or worry at all as his old car bounced along the street while I clung to my seat for dear life. I’d never driven in a car with Adams before and now I was starting to wish I hadn’t told him how urgently I needed to be at my date.
“Don’t you worry, Mr. Fry!” said Adams as a homeless guy jumped off the street to avoid being hit by Adams’ car. “We’ll be there faster than you can blink!”
“That’s nice, Adams, b
