"It's getting on towards twelve."
"Yes," said I. "I shouldn't have rung up at all."
I went back and continued drinking.
At two we broke up.
Lenz took Valentin and Ferdinand home in the taxi.
"Come," said Koster to me, switching on Karl's engine.
"I can go those few steps, Otto," said I.
He looked at me.
"We're going out a bit."
"Good." I got in.
"You drive," said Koster.
"Nonsense, Otto.
I can't drive, I'm drunk."
"You drive.
I'll take the responsibility."
"All right, you'll see," said I, sitting to the wheel.
The engine roared.
The steering wheel shivered in my hands.
The streets seesawed toward me, the houses swayed and the street lamps stood obliquely in the rain.
"It's no good, Otto. I'll hit something."
"Hit it," he replied.
I looked at him.
His expression was clear, tense and alert.
He was looking down the road ahead.
I pressed my back against the back of the seat and gripped the wheel more firmly.
I clenched my teeth and contracted my brows.
Slowly the road grew more distinct.
"Where to, Otto?" asked I.
"Straight on.
Out."
We reached the by-pass that led out of the city and came on to the highroad.
"Big headlight," said Koster.
The concrete road lit up light grey in front of us.
It was raining only a little, but the drops struck my face like hailstones.
The wind came in heavy gusts, the clouds were hanging low; just above the wood there was a cleft, and silver trickled through.
The mist vanished from behind my eyes.
The roar of the engine pulsed through my arms into my body.
I felt the engine and its power.
The explosions of the cylinders shattered the dull paralysis of my brain.
The pistons hammered like pumps through my blood; I settled down.
The car shot along the country road.
"Faster," said Koster.
The tyres began to whistle.
Trees, telegraph poles flew humming past.
A village clattered by.
I was now perfectly clear-headed.
"Step on it," said Koster.
"Can I hold him still, then?
The road's wet."
"You'll feel it.