6 pm, finally. Once again it's time to log out of my computer and leave my cubicle, which by the way, hasn't changed its appearance whatsoever in the last 18 months. As I make my way to the car park I halt in my usual place, just in front of a stop sign coincidentally, to ignite a cigarette. Now I'm quite well aware of the negative effects that these carcinogen-riddled sticks have on my body, however on some meta-physical level they seem to alleviate the stress from the last 8 hours cooped up in that corkboard, minimum wage cell.

Oh fantastic! My last cigarette, if you're a smoker you'll be able to relate to the strange melancholy that manifests deep within your body upon noticing the one solitary cigarette left in the barracks of a cigarette packet. I guess the war that we wage on our bodies has more than one casualty.

Unlocking the car and settling in for the compulsory two minute engine warm up, I draw deeply on the cigarette, sending the ammunition to the depths of my lungs. As I exhale, some unknown weather reporter's static riddled voice advises me of an incoming low pressure system; in other words, the ominous black clouds suspended above me in every direction, ready to unleash a tide of water. From the fierce demeanor of this low pressure system, I'm guessing that the imminent surge of water will be accompanied by an astounding lightning display and possibly hail.

"Perfect" I think to myself. Torrential down-pours are the optimum condition to drive recklessly in. The foremost reason for this being that anyone driving over 20 km above the speed limit during a torrential downpour is guaranteed to have absolutely no crisis with the police chasing them; the last thing the police force need is another negative headline; "High-Speed Chase Results In Death". We've all seen them before, and we've all been appalled. The loss of traction while navigating corners or roundabouts with rain-drenched asphalt and the ensuing surge of adrenalin, which usually reveals itself as a joyous "WHOOP", adds to lure of outrageous driving in such conditions.

The last few minutes of my journey have been going exactly to plan; the car whipping out horizontally around corners only to be retrieved with the car wildly 'fish-tailing' through the straight. Now I sit staring at the first round-about on my journey. I brace myself with a zealous drag on the half-burnt cigarette. My destination lies to the left of this round about, but with no other cars on the road and the asphalt more than adequately moistened I decide to go to the right and skid through a lap of the round about. As I initiate the turn to the right, I jerk the steering wheel and stab at the accelerator, resulting in the car jack knifing wildly to the left. As the vehicle makes it way around the round about, almost horizontally, I spy my point of exit. As I whip the steering wheel to the left the car commences the process of fishtailing, slowly becoming less violent until I'm 100% sure that I've regained full control of the car, I howl a full-hearted "whoop!" the exhilaration leaving me almost breathless, I eagerly draw once more on the cigarette.

Now on a straight stretch of road I replay the event that just unfolded over in my head, much like the way a scratched compact disk jerks back and forth, the seconds never replaying in chronological order, but rather sporadically jumping between certain distinct moments. I break my reverie for a second to check the speedometer; 93 km/h. Then immediately my mind jumps back to the exit of the round about, replaying at least three times.

I lift my right hand to my mouth to draw once more on the cigarette, which I completely forgot about. With nothing bar the butt of the cigarette upon which the glowing cherry rests, the luminous remnants of tobacco unexpectedly burn the side of my right index finger. In a knee jerk reaction I drop the cigarette, caring little for where it falls as long as the burning subsides. In an attempt to quicken this process I begin to suck on my index finger, which does in fact alleviate the burning quite substantially. Still on the straight stretch of road with the downpour reaching a climax which renders my vision through the windshield almost obsolete, I cast my eyes down towards the speedometer once more; 102 km/h. 'Perhaps I should slow down' runs through my mind, almost as soon as this thought comes into being it is extinguished by an agonizing burn on my left Achilles tendon. The searing pain causes my whole body to attempt to jump out of the driver seat, as if to distance myself from the burning ankle. The act of jumping out of the seat is caused by the right foot slamming fiercely towards the ground.  It barely registers that between my right foot and the ground an accelerator is quite inconveniently placed.

The sudden upwards motion of my body in its seat, accompanied by the inertiatic backwards thrust from the rapid acceleration causes my arms to swiftly turn the steering wheel to the right. A thunderous smash from the median strip propels me even further into my seat. The car hurtles to the ground after its momentary flight and uncontrollably careens across the opposite side of the road. Through the sheer terror accelerating in my mind and the near impenetrable wall of water on my wind shield I can barely make out what seems to be a white car with red and blue flashing lights mounted above it parked on the side of the road. I helplessly grapple with steering wheel in a feeble attempt to avoid the vehicle. I collide deafeningly with the car, where I was being thrust backwards just moments ago I am now propelled forwards, through the wall of water on my wind shield, over the blue and red flashing lights mounted on top of the parked white car and sent skidding on to the pavement on the other side of the car.