"The hell," he said. "Look at this glass case. One good swift kick would break it. The cops would never expect anybody to boost this car. And if the engine would turn over, you could drive it right out the capitol door!" Starlitz ran both hands over his filthy hair and shivered. "Sunday night in Mormonville—there’s not a soul in the fuckin’ streets! And the Meteor does 200 miles an hour! By dawn we could have it safely buried under a dune in White Sands, come back whenever we need it ..."