"Yeah, this car is you," she said. "Touching it is like touching you. I'm thinking of your fingers-" She worked her hand for a minute, but the restriction of her jeans was too irritating, and she couldn't find a good movement. With a sound of annoyance, she pushed her pants down almost to her knees, and then slid her hand in again, this time with more room for her fingers to move. If the drivers of these trucks looked down at the wrong (or right) moment, they were going to get an eyeful.