The radio was jabbering. 

Up to now the driver hadn't been listening. His mind had been elsewhere. But the pally, exaggerated, jarring radio voices were suddenly noticed. Oh shut up! I'm trying to think!  He jabbed an irritated forefinger onto the stop button.

And he drove on into the night. 

The wipers swished and swooshed. Rain was bursting on the windscreen splattering myriads of light-shards. The road in front so straight. He felt like he was staying still and the road moving towards him, spinning, sparkling. Trees, grey and ghostly, slipped past on either side. Like I'm floating. Cat's eyes popped up. Winking at him.

Swish - swoosh.. Swish - swoosh.

Reaching across he tugged open the glove compartment with his left hand. His fingers grasped one of the many CDs that resided there. He looked down to see what his hand had chosen. Ahh! The CD was slipping out of its sleeve. He squeezed to try to hold it but, no. Shit!  It dangled a brief moment, as if loathe to leave its protection, then flopped quietly onto his leg, down to the floor. He felt its light tap as it touched his ankle. Straining his arm and the side of his neck, he reached to get it, but it had found its way to under the brake peddle. Yes... Ahh … He could just touch it. If he could stretch a little bit further ... a little bit more …Ahh ... That's it ... Got it!

The loud bellow of the lorry's horn made him jerk his head back above the dashboard. Its massive white front was almost upon him. A huge radiator grill. The shock of a face glaring open-mouthed through darkened glass ...

Oh! Oh! … A despairing tug on the steering wheel. Swerving wildly across the road, then back, then back again, he managed to right the screeching car. Wow! Wow!  Like in the films! The hooting lorry mee ...ooowed as it was swallowed up in the darkness behind him.  

Wow! That was close!

He felt strange. Free. I’m a lucky sod!  His left hand still gripped the CD.

Swish - swoosh. Swish - swoosh.

Music. It was lovely. Rich. Warm. "Only ... de-dum ... Twenty four hours to Tulsa. Only ... de-dum ... one day away-yay from your arms ..."  Gene Pitney's voice was clear and chorister-like. Not all nasal and whiney like he used to think. Beautiful. Oh beautiful. And sad. This had been one of the first records he ever bought. A seventy-eight. But what was the CD? He didn't remember having it in his collection. Must be in a compilation. Greatest hits of the 60's or something. 

Swish - swoosh. Swish - swoosh. 

“ … I can never ... never ... never ... go home again. Oh wo - a - wo, wo - a - wo."

Into the night. Into her arms. He tried to picture her. His lover. For that was where he was heading. That was why he was driving through the night in this filthy weather. He tried to picture her. Her face. She would be waiting for him. Oh! Those eyes, so intense, so trusting. Dark brown. Or were they blue? Her mouth. That knowing smile. Lips. Red. So very red. Parting softly. Waiting for him ...

Swish - swoosh. Rain was splashing on his face. Oh. So cool!

  *****
The car was now stopped. He was outside his own house. It glowed bright and white against a blue sky. His two children were playing in the garden. They were dressed in white. The white front door opened and his wife was running towards him. Did she know where he  had been going? But she was smiling. Laughing. She didn’t know. Thank God!  And the kids were laughing too. "Daddy! Daddy!" They were running towards him. In the bright light. So bright. So very very bright.

                                                              *****

“You’re lucky, mate. But get checked over, just in case.” The ambulance man was speaking to the lorry driver. 

"He drove straight at me! A nightmare. He just swerved across the road. I couldn't do nothing... I couldn't ..."

“All right. It’s all right. Don't worry. The police'll sort all that out. Try not to think about it." The two men looked at each other. "Well at least he won't have known much about it. Just a moment. Then the impact would have killed him straight."

The words drove both men to look towards the smashed car in front of them, its bonnet crushed and steaming. The wipers were still moving, irrelevantly, for there was no windscreen left for them to wipe. And there was the dead man, his face wet with the falling rain, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his left hand held upwards as if waving.

“Well, will you look at that?" said the ambulance man. 

"What?"

"In his hand. He's holding something. Blimey ... it's a CD!"