And he knew about the name.

Three boys in his year had started making a noise when she went past — a two-note squeak done with the mouth — and had started calling her Rambler, which I did not understand and which he had to explain to me, and which is funny only if you are thirteen and know that a Rambler was a cheap American car that nobody has made since 1969.

“Her family’s drowning in medical bills, Mom,” he said.

“They couldn’t afford another one.