heading home

We were somewhere around Clermont on the edge of the Pyreenes when the Buffalo burgers began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; Maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Paris. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jubus! What are these goddamn animals?" Then it was quiet again. Josh had taken his shirt off and was pouring San Miguel on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "what the hell are you shouting about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with Spanish Kanye West sunglasses. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to drive." I pointed the Ford focus toward the Etap hotel. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.