An essay brief on fossil capitalism, set in historical Manhattan. Who am I behind the wheel? Or even: what kind of an image of ourselves, or our cities, does the car offer? Culling licks from Eula Biss, Trotsky and Ijeoma Oluo, the voice-over reframes period streets where horses and cars jostle for space in the narrowing streets. “As unthinkable as a traffic jam” they might have uttered once. How to hear the voices, feel the enforced sweat and muscle that built these roads, this way of life? Class struggle, water vs oil, herb pickers.