The car clung to the road like the desperation of love. On the corners it went as close as you could. Straights pulled it forwards with a hungry come on. On a night like this I could see every head lamp for a hundred miles. It was just the road and me and the night.
We ducked down into a hollow where a stream overran the road after summer storms. I braked hard in the corner at the bottom and my back tyres kicked up puffs of stream-bed dust as I screamed away. Bugs danced in the head lights like stars swarming out of infinity. I was moving at warp speed. From time to time I had to squirt the windshield and let the wipers swipe away the mashed bodies of insects.
Down a long straight the gradient let me reach an even ton. I saw the bug zoom out of the night like a tossed stone. It’s arc smashed it against the window - a juicy crack and its juices quivered in pulsing veins as the slipstream dragged it up the windscreen.