The car ride was relatively uneventful. MacGregor asked me a few times if I was sure I wanted to drive since the restaurant was only six blocks away. I reassured him, and once he'd reminded me how to start the car, we crept out of the driveway and turned down the first alley I could find. No need to attract attention. We drove from alleyway to alleyway and only brushed up against a few garbage bins. They made a lot of noise, but MacGregor, whom I'd told to belt up securely in the back seat, said no one came after us. It's a good thing, too. At the speed we were going they could have caught us on foot. I've driven before, but apparantly it's nothing like riding a bike. I couldn't remember the first thing besides gas versus brake. It took a while to get across the highway, but MacGregor finally convinced me no one was coming. There were six or seven cars backed up behind us and they were honking and everthing. One guy screamed out his window: "Any particular shade of green you're waiting for?" That as Mac yelling "Go, Go!" spurred me across. Those kinds of high-pressure tactics are how accidents happen.