You slide down the visor; rev up the engine; up-shift the gear. You've your eyes on the crevice - the narrow creek that's the only hope of freedom - freedom to you and your bike - freedom from bondage - bondage of having to piggyback a bus that's been dawdling before you for god-knows-how-long on the desolated road. You go for the kill - you release the clutch; and accelerate your speedster towards the narrowest of a slit between the bus and median. Now, you're sandwiched between them - a thin waft of ethereal space is all that separates you from tapping either. A couple more seconds, and you'll be out ahead - out into the freedom of the barren tarmac ahead. That's when your nose conspires against you, and - you sneeze!
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