For the most part she was contented enough to ride behind him, twisting through the traffic and keeping to his speed.<br/>Occasionally, when she tired of the boredom of riding so sedately, she'd take off speeding ahead, squeezing in between the cars and trucks where he couldn't go. Later she'd sit back, riding one handed, the other resting in her lap, waiting for him to catch up, tucking in behind again.<br/><br/>Then, when the mood took her and the road was clear enough she'd play, tearing past him, close enough to bang her fist on the roof of the car, only to jam her breaks on in front of him, trusting that he was watching and stop before he hit her.