A City Without Reins Part 2

They stopped at Victoria Square because Eleanor finally demanded tea.

"We're ten minutes from the municipal hall," Ernest argued, checking his pocket watch.

"And we're thirty minutes early," Eleanor said smoothly. "Which means if we go up there now, you'll corner the city surveyor and interrogate him about sewer grates. We are getting tea."

The square now boasted a dedicated row of cobbled parking bays. Five were filled with Model Ones; Ernest carefully steered into the sixth.

He cut the engine, checked the curb, shifted into neutral, cranked the handbrake, leaned over the sill to inspect his wheel clearance, released the handbrake, nudged the chassis back four inches, and pulled the lever again.

Eleanor sat with her arms crossed. "Are we finished docking the battleship?"

"It was crooked by three degrees."

"Get out of the car, Ernest."