The back-lit digital screen blinked the number at him as his car snaked along the highway at 83
miles per-hour. A momentary glow lit up his face orange. A puff of smoke hid it again, hanging
still in the tiny atmosphere enclosed inside the mustang.
The tiny digital screen went out again, and he grinned. The bucket was so old it still had a digital
clock, even if it only worked half the time.
With a smooth, lazy tug of his arm he pulled the 3600-pound beast into a long curve. He settled
down into the seat. Waiting. There was a tunnel coming.
As the highway came out of the curve the tunnel loomed in front of him, the old lights dying the
street orange. Drop to 4. Drop to 3. Hit the gas. Enjoy the music.
These were the nights. He knew it then. These nights he could live for. A still summer night. An
empty road. And a fast car.
Hello everyone! todays writing exercise was taking the time it is and writing based on that. This one was a lot of fun, try your own and post it in the comments!