The trail was level and not a bend in it for half a mile or so, and I thought there was a chance for us.
"I've a notion that friend Weaver has nerves.

I'm going to rattle him, if I can; but whatever happens, don't loose your grip and spill us out.
I won't hurt them." Her hands came over and touched mine on the wheel.

"I've raced a bit myself," she said simply.

"I can drive her straight." I wriggled out of the way and stood up, glancing down to make sure she was all right.

She certainly didn't look much like the girl who was afraid because something "made a funny noise." I suspected that she knew a lot about motors.
A bullet clipped close.