Forty minutes (or the more realistic hour, with that red freeway map) was a long time to be doing anything for Billy, but he wasn't admitting that. Vince had agreed to a midway stop point, so if he was too tired or in too much pain to drive, he'd just stop. That was the plan.
Billy leaned very slightly to observe the map, and grimaced. "Great. Guess we could try the 57 instead, at least for part of it." Billy raised both eyebrows at the screech and then leaned back to squint out from under his cap. "Screw omens," he said. "We're going. I've never been on a theatre lot, or whatever you call 'em." He reached down, pulled a lever, and set them out toward the freeway. Billy's friends and parents were concerned, initially, about him driving again, but if he was ill at ease he didn't show it.
"Probably like you're going incognito in this thing, huh?" he asked good-naturedly, referring to the fact the sedan was hardly a Ferrari. Billy assumed that Mr. P3 Film Producer had enough in the bank to afford better.