Dry Run Larry Niven Produced by calibre 0.6.40 Dry Run By habit Simpson was a one-hand driver. On this day he drove with both hands wrapped tightaround the wheel strangling it. He looked straight ahead down the curving length of thefreeway and he stayed in the right-center lane. He wanted a cigarette yet he was almost afraid to let go of the wheel. The air-conditioningnozzle blew icy air up at his face and down at his belt buckle icy because of the way he wasperspiring. He felt the weakness in his bowels and he cursed silently trying to relax. The dog in the trunk-- Too late now too late to change his mind-- He stabbed a finger at the cigarette lighter missed-- Jesus Hed only been driving the Buickfor five years--found it and pushed it in. He fumbled a Camel from the central glovecompartment one-handed without looking. Traffic was not too heavy. It was past seven oclockthough the July sun was still a falling glory below red streamers of cloud. A few cars hadtheir lights on unnecessarily. Were the drivers afraid theyd forget later The cars in thislane were doing sixty to sixty-five. Usually Simpson chose the fast lane. This time wasdifferent. No risks on this trip. Too late now too late to back out. He wouldnt if he could. He lit the cigarette dragged putthe lighter back and gripped the wheel again with both hands. The cigarette bent and flattenedbetween his fingers.Red taillights. This lane was slowing. He touched the brake with his foot eased down