Drabble + 56 words

It is 2:34 am and Sally is driving her 1977 Chevy Vega down a lonely highway. Defying rules of driving, she focuses on one stain on her windshield, a chalky gift from the animals above. The rows of street lights rhythmically pulse by and the trees fade into a scramble of green, the type that kindergarteners end up with after mixing every single crayola color--that ugly brownish type of green. Sally accelerates. "Hurry up! I want to reach my destination!" she exclaims.

"What destination?" her GPS, Joe, asks. Sally steps on the gas.

"The place with colorful lights at night. The place where night is still day, where people walk with a purpose. The place where life contaminates everything, even the rats in the sewer. The place where  possibilities snow down endlessly. That place!"

"Well sucks for you. You missed your exit 4.982 minutes ago, and there won't be another one for another 387 miles."