Without blades in his windshield wi...

Without blades in his windshield wipers, the man cannot continue one time it begins to rain. He ventures off the interstate. Because the insulation is shooter his car is damp like a freeway underpass smooth before he comes to a stop beneath the roadway. With each breath there is the insipid clicking of the saliva in his chaps like a solenoid-mealy-mouth brought onward by alcohol. When a patrolman stops to assess the situation, he drives the man to a field sobriety exhibition

The rain intensifies and really begins to chisel through the oils on the road. The water rivers [i]or[/i] part of to the other the underpass. The ...