In the rear-view

A minute later I was apologizing to her for asking her to put down the drink.

'That's more like it,' said she. She punched the radio on with her free thumb, let go of the wheel, and began unscrewing the lid of the flask.

The song that came on was Scandal's 'The Warrior.' 'Oh, I love this song!' Sam yelled, apparently so moved as to take her first swig.

I leaned over her from the passenger side and put a hand on the wheel. Meanwhile, my companion tossed her hair, sang along raucously to the stereo, and took her second and third swigs from the drink.

'Look, Sam,' I said, 'we'd better watch out.'

'What? Why? . . .You mean because we might have an accident or something?'

I looked over my shoulder. A Cadillac and a Suburban were gaining on us quickly, despite the fact that we were going at least ten miles per hour over the limit. I also saw something else.

'Well, actually, I have a more immediate concern.'

Samantha suddenly stiffened in her seat. 'No, Alfie--you don't mean. . .'

'Look in the mirror,' I said, snatching the flask from her and stuffing it in the glove compartment. 'And while you're at it'--shaking a box of Tic-Tacs I'd whipped from my pocket-- 'pop one of these in your mouth.'

'Oh, Alfie!'

'Don't worry, Sam. . .everything will be all right.' Yes--except for the fact that we're toast and probably won't get out of jail until we're too geriatric to do anything in bed besides piss ourselves, I thought.

Awaiting us had been a night at a cushy hotel with jacuzzis and wine--and now the lights flashed.

Up the wall

We'd been on the road about two hours when she pulled out the flask. Given the earlier filching of her mother's credit card, it probably shouldn't have come as a surprise. Still, I looked at her as if she were from Mercury.

'What?'

'What do you mean, "what"? What in God's name are you doing?'

She eyed me askance. 'I like to drink this, Alfie.'

'Yeah. . .that's bad enough,' I said, remembering one of our trysts. 'But you're driving a car, Sam--and you sure are going fast enough, by the way! . . .Are you out of your mind?'

'You're too uptight, Alfie,' Sam said. 'Relax.'

'Relax?' I said. 'Relax, when we're driving down a wet highway at eighty miles per hour and you pull out a goddamn flask? You might as well tell a bird in a crocodile's shutting mouth to relax. Put it down, Sam! Now!'

'No,' Sam said, and stepped on the accelerator.

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.

Yell 'No'

It's strange how much sway the glittering eyes of a young woman can hold over the judgment of even quite sensible young men. (I would rather not venture, of course, whether I fall into this last category.) If I could have it to do over again, I suppose I would squint my eyes shut, plug my nasal passages with cotton, and yell

'No!'

to the wind.