The wind is still, the day it hot, it's hard to breathe, and Fiorella is on the move in short shorts and granny glasses. She enters the freeway at sixty miles an hour and revs up to eighty. If her mother weren't dead, she would die at the way Fio drives, but all Fio's doing is keeping up with the traffic.
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Fiorella loves the conveniemce of I-35 until she misses an exit and loses ten miles worth of precious time. Never mind--she compensated herself with an overload of chocolate when she got home (burp).
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Yours truly longs for a self-driving car, but what would she do to amuse herself while her robot driver has all the fun and adventure? Take up knitting?
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