Two a.m was a ford cortina passing by. Under the main bridge into town. Into a town that kept it's lights on, for the tiny trickle of nocturnal traffic and thoroughfare.
Somewhere kilometers behind was a cruiser, in it's a window a hand held reciever, hanging down and slightly bouncing as the car rolled on.
The cop's face inside was disinterested.
He caused his car to careen at high speed along the longer paved stretches.
Barely touching the asphalt in places.
He sought the Ford cortina alas it was gone. Vanished into time itself.
The driver and occupants not identified. Time traveling back into the seventies.
Towns with no night lighting. streets bare and empty as if waiting to be dressed.
Those wheels clinged to that gravel. In the year the car was made.
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