Inspiration?

[Ghoulish Delight]

Hurtling across the flat, dry, endless expanse of the desert at well over 100 miles per hour, his grin is as wide as the horizon. In the passenger seat, she smiles too, if not as broadly, alternately watching the cracked earth blur beneath the car and turning to watch him.

"What absolute freedom!" he cries, glancing at her for a moment, one eye still on the empty landscape ahead.

"Yes," she responds, "It's amazing." Happy, if a bit dispassionate.

They continue in silence for several miles.

"You checked the brakes, right?" she asks, out of the blue.

"Yes, of course. The brakes are fine."

"Okay, good."

Silence.

"What if they're not?"

"What?"

"What if the brakes don't work?"

"Umm, I guess it doesn't really matter, we have no reason to use them. There's more flat desert here than we'll ever see. I don't plan to stop until the car runs outta gas and we coast to a stop."

"I know, I know."

Looking out the window, her smile fades. It returns for a moment when her gaze shifts back to him, still grinning ear to ear. But it doesn't last.

"But what if something gets in the way?"

"What? Nothing's going to get in the way. Besides, if it does, we have the brakes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I told you I checked them. We wouldn't have started if we didn't have brakes. But it doesn't matter, we won't need them."

"But what if we do?"

"But we don't. And even if we did, they're fine."

"How can you be sure?"

"I checked them."

"That was 20 miles ago. Maybe something's happened to them. I think we should stop."

"What?! But that makes no sense! If what makes you want to stop is the possibility of lack of brakes, then all stopping will do is prove that we didn't need to stop."

"...."

He laughs, and pats her leg reassuringly. And continues driving.

"What was that!?" she exclaims, gripping his arm and making the car waver for a moment.

"What was what?"

"I...there was a big ditch or something, we narrowly missed it, why didn't you stop?"

"There was? I didn't see it. And we didn't hit it. That's why I didn't stop."

"But we could have..."

"Could have, but we didn't."

Her smile is gone now. She puts it on the few times he looks her way.

"I think I saw another hole or bump or something," she says quietly, weakly.

"Fvck, do you want to stop?"

"No, I just...I don't know."

"Because we'll stop if you want."

"No. No. I'm fine."

The desert is endless, and she does feel like it can go on forever, only stopping when the car "naturally" runs out of gas. But she's watching. She's watching the ground ahead to look for flaws, rather than the beauty of the ground disappearing underneath them. And she's watching him drive, scrutinizing, making sure he doesn't screw up, making sure he's watching for the hazards too.

They've reached a slight downgrade, the car begins to pick up speed, tires skimming gracefully over the baked desert landscape. He's stopped turning even one eye towards her.

"Stop," she says, suddenly and matter-of-factly. "I'm not enjoying this anymore."

He looks briefly, directly into her eyes, and then puts his foot on the brakes.

The car groans in protest, the tires, so recently content with barely contacting the ground, scramble for purchase on the thin layer of dust that coats the earth, and the car begins to spin. Both occupants thrown violently to one side, their seatbelts saving them from major damage. After what seems like an agonizingly long time, the car comes to a rest, the engine voices a few last spiteful whines and clanks, and dies in a way that lets them know it's not going to start again.

She sits in the passenger seat, head hanging.

The car, after a couple spins, has come to rest facing back in the direction they had come. He's staring wide-eyed out the window at the tracks that they've left.

"I'm sorry," she sobs. "There was no good reason to stop."

He's quiet for a moment. Then looks at her. "I...I didn't know it would be so difficult to stop. I wonder if we even could have stopped in time or safely to avoid anything that got in our way."

They sit in silence for an eternity.

"Do you wish we were still going?" he asks.

"Yes. I do."

"So do I. If we repair the engine, should we try again?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."