The Drive

He drove in a very unassuming sort of way. For once following the speed limit posted on the sign, one hand on the wheel languidly waving at strangers, passersby, though many went unreturned. He wore sunglasses that didn't quite fit right, and he kept the window rolled down and an arm thrust out to the open despite the heat. Songs played loudly that he knew by heart, not from memory, and he shouted the well worn words at the wind in defiance. His destination was a secondary concern, a necessary means for this instance, and ample justification for the forthcoming drive.