There is something to be said for driving at night, the hypnotic whine of tires intermingling with the gutteral exhaust and guitar riffs of fat old rock gods that men invariably listen to in the later hours of night. Jack found himself in this situation as he drove east, across the deserts, one arm hanging out the side of his door; his fingers tapping the beat of Paradise City into the metal door as the¬†cool night¬†breeze soothed his sunburnt skin. He hadn’t seen another car in hours and the moon was new that night, but he kept his headlights low. There was something about living life thinking only eight reflectors ahead that appealed to him.

The beat picked up and Jack allowed himself the indulgance of lip-synching the chorus, it was the dead of night after all.

Then the pain came. (more…)