The first time I drove my father’s black Cadillac DeVille was June 5th, 1982, on our compound in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. It was midnight and all I could hear were a few grass frogs and the silence of hot locusts. I watched a pre-recorded episode of Dallas, sprayed a hint of ‘Daydreams’ by Maybelline on my neck, all to give me some American strength. Women were not allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia, they’d be jailed if they did. Or maybe whipped or stoned or something ugly. Something that wouldn’t happen in the other 184 countries that existed in the world at that time.

The above excerpt is from Driving in Riyadh, a novel about a young girl growing up in Saudi Arabia during the 1970’s and 80‘s living amidst the opulent and traditional Saudi Kingdom and the modern West.