Paris, 1947

"Madam, this is what they call a Jeep."
"What a strange name. Why do they call it that?"
"I do not know. It is American." Nami retorted, a bit too fiestily for her own good.
"Ahhh." As if that explained everything, "A little softer with your consternation, miss Nami." Regina politely smiled. God how Nami hated that smile.
"It moves because of an engine in it, a machine that you add gasoline to. It then responds by turning these wheels here." Nami says, going over the basic workings. Regina is following along, but not well.
"I don't really care how it works, just tell me what needs must be done."
"Sorry My Dame."
Crack. The backhand stung Nami's face. For years, she has continued to defy Regina's wishes and append My to her terms. It was unseemly.
"I'm sorry, Dame Pia."
"Your apology is accepted. Please do not let it happen again." Regina tried sounding pleasant and hopeful, but even she was not capapble of such a task.
"First, this is the steering wheel. You turn it with the clock to make the vehicle turn right, you turn it against the clock to make the vehicle turn left."
Regina tested turning the wheel of the jeep. Nami had gotten the keys off of some very drunk Liberators, (with Regina's permission and request) for a driving lesson.

"These keys start the engine, but only when it is in neutral. You also have to depress the clutch." Regina followed the instructions, and the engine coughed and sputtered into life. Regina crosses herself, never having been so close to a car before. "Now, push this lever, the shifter, into the top left. that is where the first ehhhh gear is. Then you move it around like so as you go faster."

It took quite some time, a few moments of panic, and two crashes, but regina finally got the hang of it.
She was not the first Invictus to figure out how to drive. In fact it was her Meister that had suggested she learn the art. Rapid transport by horse was no longer a valid means of travel these days. And so she had ordered Nami to teach her. Anyone else would be seen as a sign of weakness, and it was too much of a hassle to ghoul yet another mortal just to teach her to drive.

~~~
Most Americans loved post-war paris. It was beautiful women, beautiful music, great food. Except sergeant Pullman. No matter what happened, he would wake up with a raging hangover, and a beat up jeep to take back to the motor pool, where he would get chewed out. A few weeks later he'd go back and the same thing would happen without fail.
~~~

Regina eyed the alleys again as she continued driving. These new automatic gearboxes did make things easier, but regina longed for the money to have her own manual shifter. Soon.