Imagine driving along quite innocently in your car.
Make it at night and you are alone behind the wheel.
Unfortunately the radio is not working so you are left with your own thoughts, memories, insecurities and paranoia.
There may be some comfort from the glare of the lights from oncoming traffic or the sound of vehicles overtaking and speeding off into the distance. You have plenty of things to keep you attention. Negotiating even the best lit carriageway takes some concentration to avoid potholes, bits of lorry tyre re-treads, bodywork panels from previous accidents, the odd wild creature ambling across to the far verge or faster and more mobile ones risking their lives in between the flow of traffic.
A white van in a lay-by could as easily be concealing a speed camera than a tradesman's tools or an amorous encounter.
The dashboard in most modern vehicles can be a colourful and functional distraction. It can be an escape from the boredom of a long road journey to adjust the intensity of the in car lighting, play with the trip computer and regularly set to zero the miles per gallon setting so that the fuel economy statistics look momentarily impressive at around 70mpg before plummeting rapidly and fluctuating between 40 and 60.
Dropping down the sun visor gives an opportunity to check for facial spots or blemishes in the vanity mirror. If the road is empty you may even attempt to coax and squeeze that pimple which has suddenly erupted on chin or at the nape of the nostrils. Gripping the steering wheel with your knees allows two opposing forces to be applied by forefingers to said black or yellow head and if done correctly there can be a satisfying popping sound and a spurt of fluid onto the mirror glass.
If peckish there can be a frantic search in the glove compartment for any secreted snacks or goodies. This can be a hazourdous exercise as most boxes of this type are just beyond normal reach for the driver. For a momentary second all focus needs to be on the lunge to open up and see what is stored away and inevitably there is a loss of control of the vehicle. It may take a couple or more extensions of the body and left arm (please amend if reading this on the continent or in the US where left hand drive is the norm)to make a valid search into the darkest recesses.
If the contents of my glove box are typical there will be overwhelming disappointment at the absence of any consumables.
Other storage areas are within easier reach. I have yet to understand the reasoning for a sunglasses holder up by the courtesy light. The car windows are perfectly tinted to keep the UV at bay and the luxury of a custom made receptacle for spectacles is unnecessary.
My favourite, cavernous storage area is under the drivers arm rest. Odds on there will be a few sticks of chewing gum in between the CD's to provide a veritable feast to break the monotony and tedium of a long drive.
Pins and needles can set in without notice from a rigid driving stance. The only relief is to try to stretch out toes and ankle, rotating through 360 degrees and trying to put on some pressure without causing the accelerator pedal to be inadvertently stamped on.
Cruise control can be a great advantage in some circumstances but not without the nagging recollections of dramatic stories of this driver's aid getting stuck on a high speed setting resulting in a mad dash down the motorway whilst giving a running commentary to the rescue services and trying to run down the fuel supply.
Other buttons and switches can be toyed with to wile away the time.
A feeling of heaviness may suddenly fall onto eyelids and with that tell-tale nodding dog motion which can be a portent of full slumber behind the wheel.
In the absence of strong black coffee, an energy drink that tastes like Vimto or a high tech in car device which scans you face for signs of impending sleep (I do not have a Volvo)there is always the trick of winding down all of the windows for a short sharp and invigorating burst of cold, forward motion induced air.
Be sure that all loose papers and lightweight items are securely stowed as the vortex introduced by pressurised air can pull up, lift, separate and eject these items out into the dark of the night.
On a particularly long and lonely drive home late one night I felt the need to introduce a stimulating breeze.
On first glance of my immediate surroundings in the car there did not appear to be any potential for wind blow extraction of personal items.
There followed something that resembled a favourite trait of horror movies. The emergence of a face, a bloodied knife or worse from the back seat and its manifestation in the rear view mirror will send a cinema audience into a fit of fear and spine tingling sensations of murder and mayhem. On this particular night I sensed a movement behind me from the vicinity of the back seat. Then a sound, indistinguishable from the general road noise through the open windows, but nevertheless a scraping and rustling.
I could make out a faint ripping sound of metal on fabric and more rattling as though something or someone was restrained from actual movement.
By this time I had imagined the worst case scenarios seen in Hammer Studio Films, Hollywood Screamers and the rumoured atrocities in snuff movies. My fingers began to ache from their tightening grip on the steering wheel. A bead of sweat could be felt making its way down my neck into my nether region.
Suddenly, whatever was nestled on the back seat rose and loomed towards me in the mirror. It shot up onto the headlining, rotated through 180 degrees and came to rest upside down on the passenger seat.
I was not sure whether to pull over and bludgeon the intruder with a half empty aerosol can of de-icer which my right hand had located in the door pocket or lean over, at my risk and open the door to allow the thing to cascade out into the dark of the night.
The former action was preferable and I pummeled the object into total submission.
The second option of the sudden dumping onto the carriageway of an empty box from a Staples Photocopy Paper supply could be seen as a serious littering offence and my tall story, my intense tale of supernatural forces at play may not cut it with the local traffic police.
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