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24 November 2008

Night curves.

We turn, happy to no longer be following the red taillights, a deep sigh of relief relaxing from my chest to my hands on the steering wheel and my foot on the gas pedal, anticipating the curves ahead. We know this road well, the car and I. I press down a little on the gas and the car responds with a surge of power and growl of engine; surely the silent electric cars of the future will envy us. I enjoy the play of the headlights, light not a disperse glare but a sharp, horizontal shelf of light that envelopes us to the left, the right, the front, touching on just the trunks of the trees, the posts of the fences, the leaves of the bushes, never rising enough to blind a person in an oncoming car; I watch the illuminated areas carefully for deer that would leap onto the road and spoil our fun. Coming to the first curve, I nudge the steering wheel, the car responds immediately, an extension of my own thoughts; a little more speed and now we flow back and forth, back and forth, tires hugging the curves like a camisole clinging to breasts.

After this romp, home awaits, but just now we live in the moment, savoring the turns of the night.

day curves