The Rambler shuddered as James pushed the engine and he suppressed an urge to snap at Kyla when she whined in the passenger seat. "Come on, baby," James muttered to the six-wheeler. "You can do it." It wasn't far back to base, but on foot it would be impossible. All the passengers knew they would be dead outside the relative comfort of the old transport. The left front wheel hit another hole and dipped ominously to that side, the rabbit's foot dangling from the control panel swinging on its short, beaded chain.
"Kyla," James said through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving the rutted path. "Pull yourself together, and reassure the passengers; that is your job, isn't it?"
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