She drives me. . .II

Samantha gripped the wheel tightly as we sped along the highway. It was dark. Every twenty seconds the sky flickered, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

'This is great,' Sam said in a low voice. 'I can't believe we got away with this, but here we are! Isn't this exciting, Alfie?'

'It's a blast,' said I, gripping the plastic handle of my door. 'The most vivid words could not express how I feel.'

'It'll only get more exciting from here,' she said, as a large bolt of lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the strange expression.

With some effort, I successfully avoided recoiling in horror.

'Your parents sure were quick to believe that we were heading to the Harrison Art Museum, Samantha,' said I, '--especially given the limited suitability of this weather to museum-crawling.'

'Harrison isn't even open on Friday evenings,' said she, 'but that says so much about our ability to convince.'

I devoted a moment to the consideration of certain other factors upon which our success might, in fact, have hinged. 'Yes,' said I finally, 'we're quite good at that.'

Sam looked straight ahead.

Now another surge of lightning flickered the sky; thunder rolled through the darkness. The highway glistened in the moonlight.