She never felt dread, a fear of dying, until those roads seemed too small. The blurry poles and trees and houses had passed each day without a second notice. The driver, much too drunk, held the balance of life and death in his obliterated hands. Much, much too drunk, but what could she do? She had agreed to get in the truck. She felt guilt, but that wouldn't save her now. Nor would indulging the buzz that had hit her head, all too suddenly. It had been growing for hours, but there was the problem. It was all too subtle until it was too late. Her fear ran its course with the passing blurs. Each an obstacle overcome, only to be replaced by the next. Then the next. A seemingly infinite amount of ammo for the world to to take her out. Yet the farther they went, the more hope grew, that she would be ok. Every second a prayer answered. Every street a milestone. Until, at last, the destination was in sight! Thu-thump! The driver turned too tight, and came up on the sidewalk. "Oh sorry ha!" They were alive and they had arrived. Never again she promised. Until a couple of hours later, she had to make the journey back. Another drunk driver, another broken promise. Youth never learns?