Flat tire.

As Steve continues to drive you grow a little bored, clicking your fingers and hearing a satisfactory explosion below you, seconds before the car suddenly serves hard, skidding up onto the sidewalk, luckily avoiding passing pedestrians.

You chuckle to yourself as Steve casts an apologetic look at Amy. "Crap, sorry. This'll just take a minute. Promise."

Amy makes no reply, just stareing at her bare legs, trying to hold her shirt tightly shut to avoid the gaze of people walking by in rush hour.

You ponder for a moment, wondering how best to get Amy out of the car and into full public view.