I don’t think Snowie would care what car he drove as long as he could feel the wind in his jowls. He'd cruise around like my old aunty used to (before her kids made her stop in her late 80s), nary a care in the world, drifting to this side of the road if something caught his attention, and to that side when he’d caught a whiff of something else, oblivious to the carnage in his wake. The only requirement for his car would be it must be big enough for all the friends he’d pick up along the way.


