Fake out and head to the back seat

I charge past Lewis yelling “shotgun” at the top of my lungs and sprint to the prize seat. Lewis looks at me dumbfounded, looks at the front door hanging wide open and then looks back at me, rather unhappily. He pulls the door shut and walks as slow as he can down the path to the sidewalk.

At the last second I change course and take the back seat on Eric's side. Seeing this, Lewis quickens his step and instead of taking the prize seat, he climbs into the back seat next to me.

"What's up Lew?"

"We don't get to sit next to each other very often."

Eric says, "Hurry up you lovebirds and buckle up. We need to get moving."

What's his hurry? As fast as he drives, he will more than make up for the time it takes normal drivers to get to their destination.

He accelerates on to the road proper and at the first traffic light we have to stop at, he breaks the silence. "Lewis and I are still planning on heading out to the historic site, are you sure you don't want to come?"