The engine was still running when she leaned over the center console. He didn't get the chance to throw the **** thing into park before she started to sing. It was a simple song with a slow and steady rhythm, a thumping bass line, and in this interpretation- an early ******. Her amusement melted rather quickly. The look on her face was beautiful. He didn't realize fast enough that, through the rearview mirror, she was wearing a face of terror. As they rolled down the hill, he realized it was both a wonderful and embarrassing way to die.