I knew sports—Roman games were filled with them.
From my scattered French studies, I understood utility meant useful and véhicule meant to carry.
This was a useful carrying device that involved sports.
…That made no sense.
But I had seen stranger things.
I opened the door and eased onto the seat.
The interior was even more bizarre—a maze of knobs, dials, and buttons, a front panel covered in symbols and numbers.
Lee grinned as he pressed one of them.
The beast beneath us rumbled to life.
I stiffened.
“I remember what it was like to time travel to the 21st century,” Lee said, watching my reaction. “It can be… bewildering.”
That was an understatement.
Suddenly, the vehicle lit up—a deafening roar erupting from deep within its belly.
I gripped the door handle, my pulse pounding.
“Easy, Roman.” Lee chuckled. “That’s the engine of the Jeep.”
I forced myself to breathe and repeated the word. “Jeep.”
What in the name of the gods was a Jeep?
Lee gestured in a loose circle. “We’re sitting in an SUV. Think of it like a wagon. But instead of a horse, there’s an engine powering it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And Jeep means what, exactly?”
“It’s just a name,” he explained. “The company that built it is called Chrysler. And Chrysler calls this vehicle a Jeep. Nothing more.”
He shot me a side-eyed glance, amused. “Like I said, I remember coming to the 21st century. There are so many gizmos and devices here that it’ll make your head swim. But don’t worry—I’ll help you figure it out.”
I nodded, still trying to process this horseless machine.
“Now, put your seatbelt on, and let’s get going.”
Lee reached over and helped me secure a strap across my chest, tightening it into place.
Then he pulled a lever.
I froze as an image flashed before us like something from a television.
I gawked at the moving picture, stunned.
“That’s what’s behind us,” Lee explained, tapping the screen. “It’s a backup camera. It lets me see what I’m doing as I back up.”
I had barely processed that information when the Jeep lurched backward.
My stomach dropped.
