racing for the sake of it

awaken, turn off the alarm on the pad, stagger to the bathroom.

Five in the morning, let the shower warm up, awaken under the warm spray.

The little dessicator in the bathroom has filled with water, empty the tank.

It stars to hum again, and blow warm dry air into the room.

Leave the house, walk down the street towards the police station, turn right, there is the car.

It starts today, no problem. There is an empty bottle on the floor by the passenger seat, left there by the wife, forgotten. Put it on the seat to stop it rolling about, clattering against the metal supports of the car seat.

Drive through the town, on the newly paved street, then down the side street, then through the tunnel.

The tunnel is one and a half kilometres long, a dreary tube full of warning signs and arrows for emergency exits. When is past take a left turn, then the final traffic lights. The cross country main road is dark but for the oncoming headlights, cars approaching two abreast, overtaking, early morning hurry and stress.

Then there is a bus ahead, and other cars. The bus pulls over at a bus stop, all the cars overtake the bus. 

Be the last, watch them speed on.

Then a traffic roundabout, a traffic light, a turn off to the right, then the autobahn.

Egomaniac Germans in a hurry, bullying big cars containing small executives, self important creatures they are. Artisans vans, plumbers and carpenters, racing to get to work on time, or just racing for the sake of it.

Then brake lights ahead, all slow, crawl.

Two cars parked on the left side, at the central fence of the dual carriageway, no emergency lights.

An accident, less than serious, the drivers of the car in front talking into his mobile 'phone.

In the middle of a motorway, on the fast lane in the dark.

Wonder about that, and drive on past.

There are things to be collected at work today, that is the reason for the car.

Look forward to the train tomorrow.