"Oh, and you were wrong. I looked it up, and Wolverine wasn't made of wolves and margarine. I told you it was Adamantium."
"Yea, OK." Max replied. "But I'm right about Rocky - he should have boxed that robot in 4"
"Hmm... you have a point. It would have been pretty cool."
The car swerved across the road, narrowly missing another cyclist. He looked pretty pissed off, and tried to throw a water bottle at us. It missed, but I noticed a strange thudding from the direction of the boot.
"What's that?" I asked, somewhat worried about the answer.
"Oh, that's my mother. She wanted a lift to the Bingo."
"Right, OK then..." I replied calmly. This had happened before. "Why's she in the boot though?"
"She's... what do you call it? Afraid of open spaces, you know?"
"Agoraphobic?"
"Yea, that's the one. So she likes to ride in the boot. Don't worry, she's got a blanket and lots of water. I even put up one of those grids to keep her off the back seats, and I keep the windows open back there. The man at the shop said that was the best thing to do for her."
"Ah, of course. Except he may have had the impression you were transporting a dog, not a 79 year old retired Pope impersonator."
"I suppose you have a point, but it's too late now." He paused, then: "I'm just stopping here, need to piss."
"Great news, thanks. Just great."
We pulled up at a petrol station, and Max headed towards the toilets at the rear. I got out and opened the boot. It was empty, save for a empty petrol can that seemed to have been bouncing about.
I decided not to get lifts from Max any more.