Driving

He was late.
He drove like a madman along twisting country roads that he knew like the back of his hand.
A right turn came out of nowhere and he realised he perhaps didn't know the back of his hand as well as he'd previously thought.
He mounted the verge and wrestled to keep the car on the road. He strayed into the oncoming lane briefly. Briefly enough for an approaching driver to blow his horn, flash his lights and gesticulate wildly at him. He assumed that expletives were also being screamed inside the car he was in no real danger of hitting.
The hill arrived and he roared down it, eschewing SLOW and LOW GEAR suggestions. He bounced down at almost 70mph, mindful of the bend he would encounter at the bottom.
It was starting to get dark and he misjudged the bend and left the road. The car struck a raised part of the verge and took off over a hedge. He saw a building approacing him and was powerless to do anything.
The family had just finished eating in their conservatory and were adjourning to watch some crappy soap or other when the car crashed through the glass.
"He hasn't even got his lights on," one of them said.