The road snakes it's way through suburbia, a three-lane highway practically begging for its speed limit to be ignored. Especially at night. Not at all recommended. The people living by the side of the road are either fed-up with, or immune to, the buzzing of the traffic. It must be like having a swarm of bees constantly inside your head.
The traffic at 1am shouldn't be heavy, but for some reason travels at a snail's pace. Three lanes of solid chaos that I need to worm my way through. Having to use a siren at that time of night can't help the neighbours either, but I have no choice. The bright yellow car and flashing blue lights don't seem to be enough for the other drivers to see. They need to hear the high-pitched wailing too.
In the distance I see what looks like a sea of fire-flies, with all the police cars blocking the road, blue and red lights lighting up the dark night. Eventually fighting my way past the road blocks, I see it. A dead beetle. A big one. One of it's wheels still spinning in a final dance of death, it lies on its roof, shattered. It fought around one of the bends, but lost the fight. At 60mph, the chances of a new driver negotiating this bend are slim. The railings that used to be at the side of the road are now a spider's web that has been brushed away.
By the side of the road sits the driver. He's got out by himself, seems to be miraculously uninjured. The luckiest person I've met for while. I take another look at his car, and with a childish grin think to myself, there's only one thing left to say. But no-one to say it to. Oh well. I'll say it anyway...