There was a lot more mushy snow to get through on his way to the old Ford, than he had anticipated, and wearing Brogue shoes didn't exactly help his feet stay dry - Ed had lost his fitted boots on a gamble, he couldn't remember when.
His hands froze almost instantly while he was trying to adjust to the Model T dashboard and seat. It was a piece of crap car with a weird smell of hooch and tobacco stuck to its inside, despite the constant air currents running through it whenever there was any wind outside.
Ed used the key to turn on the coil box, and then hit the floor mounted starter switch with his heel - that was so outdated. The Tin Lizzie let out a screeching cough and a bored hiccup before falling silent. Ed tried all manners of combinations, from pressing the peddle at various speeds, to wiggling the starter switch, yet nothing happened. The flivver was stuck there.
Cazzo.
"A good car my ass, kid," was Ed's mumbling sigh.
He felt uncomfortable and cold, but he was just as reluctant to move as was the good for nothing heap of trouble he now apparently owned.