Faramir:
The day had passed smoothly. The unique aerodynamic features of Minas Taxi, including a magnificent rocky wall that cut the air like a knife through butter (although with 70% less fat), made the vehicle roll gracefully over the lands, and not long after Denethor and Faramir had finally agreed on the course they should take, the two saw the Grey Mountains rising tall in front of them.
HERE THER BE TOLLS!
A huge sign with eccentric handwriting had been thrust on the edge of the road. Denethor hit the brakes, but forgot to switch the gear, and with a loud bang the city leaped forward and turned off its engine belching so thick a volume of smoke that even Mt. Zoom would have been proud of it.
"Tolls! What do they mean tolls!" Denethor wheezed behind a cloud of radiating exhaust fumes.
"I think they want money, father", Faramir said.
"Well then, son. Hand me your wallet so we can continue our journey."
But it turned out that neither Faramir or Denethor had any money. They would have to try to speed past the tollkeeper although they were in the wild now, and rumours told about fierce tollkeepers who had done most imaginative things to people who had tried to avoid paying the fee.
"There will be hard battering and squealing tyres nigh at hand ere the day is full. Then death, or a swift flight to a pit stop", Faramir predicted glumly while gazing down from their birthday cake-esque vehicle. Its seven white layers glimmered and a tall spike projected pompously towards the skies like a candle.
"Unless... we give him something else that is as valuable as money", Denethor said sneakily.
"I'm not giving up my stamp collection!" Faramir cried clutching a thick book in his hands.
Denethor sighed exasperated. "Switch on the autopilot. We have business on other levels."