The Highway Dance

The black car races down the lane, weaving in and out of traffic, crossing back and forth between the three lane highway with little concern for the frustration and annoyance of the other drivers.  The young man driving the car has a wide grin on his face, his fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song that is spiraling out from his speakers. His body is relaxed, completely without tension, at odds with his style of driving. Another driver, in a sleek white car, watches the black car in her rearview mirror. The driver of the of the white car is young, her eyes sparking with interest and devilry. The black car quickly makes its way near her car. As he pulls even with her car, she glances at him, sends a nod in his direction, then picks up speed.  She pulls from the middle lane, into the right lane, zooming in and out of traffic. The young man in the black car feels his grin widen. He joins in the game that has been initiated by the girl  in the white car. Both cars weave through traffic, somehow knowing the unspoken rule that they cannot be in the same lane. The driver of a sporty blue car, a slightly older male, watches the game as the cars move swiftly, heading away from his sight.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he presses the accelerator to the floor and joins, also making sure that he never stays in the same lane as either of the other two. One, by one, they give nods of acknowledgement that there is a third player. The game has become a dance. The three cars weavie through three lanes of traffic, none of them in a lane with each other longer then it takes to cut across to the adjoining lane. Occasionally all three drive even with each other, spread out across all three lanes. Smiles flash, dares and bets are thrown through open windows, and the weaving resumes. Blue momentarily loses his grin as he passes a cop car, but quickly regains his smile, as the cop's lights begin to flash and begins to give chase. The game, the dance, does not yet end. Rather, the speed slows down, but the weaving continues, only this time weaving around the cop, keeping pace with his vehicle. When Black has judged that they have angered the cop as much as they dare, he pulls into the middle lane, behind the cop and in front of White. Blue slows down some more and falls in behind White. The cop finds himself leading the three cars that he had intended to pull over. He passes into the right lane and pulls over. The racing cars follow to the right lane, then speed on past, blaring their horns as they fly by. The cop shakes his head in a mixture of annoyance, anger, and grudging respect. They kept him so busy watching where they were going so that an accident didn't occur, that he never caught their license plates. He radioed the cops that were coming for back-up, canceling the aid. The dancers were long gone.

And the dance continued.