They is you
"Gezzus Christ, Loyd, my car broke down again." John indignantly glared at an open hood as if its state of inoperation was a personal vendetta accomplished. Cars made minimal attempts as they drove by to give them room at the side of the road -- they were all headed somewhere more important. The conversation continued: "I mean, really, they can send someone to the moon and back but hell if they can get my fucking Ford to carry me accross town." Disappointed in the small effect of his last statement on his companion Loyd, John fell quiet.
"Whose 'they?'"
John looked up from the engine, and looked around sharply as if looking for a clue. "What? They who?"
Loyd took a breath. "You said they can send a person to the moon. You're talking about NASA. NASA is trying to dominate the technological scene, they're trying to surpass Russia. This car is made by a company whose only objective is to get more money out of you. Why would it work?" Loyd was shyly watching a bus pass them as he spoke.
"Whose 'they?'"
John looked up from the engine, and looked around sharply as if looking for a clue. "What? They who?"
Loyd took a breath. "You said they can send a person to the moon. You're talking about NASA. NASA is trying to dominate the technological scene, they're trying to surpass Russia. This car is made by a company whose only objective is to get more money out of you. Why would it work?" Loyd was shyly watching a bus pass them as he spoke.