If you hit traffic at just the right time, a twenty-minute drive could easily turn into an hour. I hated feeling like a prisoner in my own car. Day after day, I vowed to leave work a little earlier or stay a little later, anything to avoid the mess that was rush hour.

I looked to my left to find a little old lady. Her head barely reached the top of the steering wheel. I didn’t realize I was staring until she returned my glance. I smiled and looked forward. Damn it, it had to be at least a hundred degrees in here, I thought to myself. I rolled down the window to let some fresh air in, but all I got was muggy air.

I looked to my right; a mousy soccer mom tried desperately to quiet her van full of brats. I shook my head at her. She gave me a dirty look and inched past me. Frustrated I once again surfed the radio dial. Commercial…commercial…country song…newscast…nothing catches my interest. I returned to the top forty station and looked at my watch, ten minutes had gone by and I had barely moved an inch.

After several songs and two commercial breaks, a good song finally came on. I bobbed my head and casually tried to sound out the lyrics. When I got to the chorus I sang along as if I was the only one who could hear it.

“Sounds good,” I heard a voice to my right.

Embarrassed I turned down the volume and slowly turned my head to the right. A very good-looking businessman had replaced the mousy soccer mom. He looked to be about mid thirties. His tie halfway undone hung loosely from his white shirt.

“Thanks,” I said and looked at my fingers on the steering wheel.

“Don’t be embarrassed that song always gets to me too,” he laughed and I laughed with him. I tried to be casual and glanced at his hands on the wheel. No visible signs of marriage.

“Don’t you just hate this damn traffic?” I asked eager to continue our conversation.

“Yeah, today is especially bad, there must be a wreck up ahead,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and threw my arms up in frustration.

“I know how you feel, but I know a way we can pass the time and let some of this traffic roll through.”

I couldn’t resist his mischievous grin and played along with him. “How do you suppose we do that?” I asked.

“Get in front of me and take the first right. There’s a construction site on the left.”

It took several minutes for us to get enough distance between us, but eventually I got over and followed his instructions. He stayed closely behind. The further I drove the more deserted the streets got. It felt nice to go at a decent speed for once. I looked into the rearview mirror, his signal flashed left. I looked to my left and turned into a new housing development. It was pretty much deserted. I slowed down and he pulled past, waving for me to follow.

He led me almost to the end of the development, where he parked his car next to a