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I'm driving in a sewer. Well, not a sewer per se, but a big tunnel beneath the city of Liverpool. The tunnel is filled with a knee-high river of fetid water, and I can definitely picture Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles living down here, so if you called it a sewer I wouldn't correct you. "Have you ever read Stephen King's It?" I ask Micah, my driving partner. He has. And if you haven't, it's about a murderous clown who lives in the sewer. Let's talk about something else, like the Land Rover Evoque we're driving, which has puddle lights in the side mirrors that project an image of the car on the ground when the door is opened. I'd try that, but I really don't want to get out of the car, on account of the stinky water down here in the not-a-sewer.