Don't know if you want it yet? Check out the beginning:
Patricia patted the worn, old dashboard gently. "Hang in there, Henry, we're almost home."
While people in general might not admit to talking to their cars, she thought most probably do, and when driving home in the middle of the night she'd take the embarrassment of encouraging a machine before being stranded any day. Besides, having someone to talk to made life seem better, even if it was just an old Ford.
The road curved through the dark forest and the landscape seemed surreal. The darkness and the snow made everything turn black and white, and it reminded her of an old movie. Being home on the sofa flipping through TV channels sounded great, and she pressed the accelerator a little harder without even realizing it. Girls' night out had seemed like a wonderful idea, but next time she should probably sleep over somewhere.
She could have sworn she didn't take her eyes off the deserted road for a second, not even when she reached out to change the radio station, and the man appearing out of nowhere looked like a mirage. He stood still, frozen in the bright headlights, and one second seemed to last forever. Patricia thought, "He doesn't have any warm clothes. Why would anyone go out dressed like that in the middle of winter?" and then her body started acting on its own. Her foot found the brake and slammed the pedal, but she knew she wouldn't make it.
The man was too close, and she was coming too fast. Instinctively, she tried to steer around him, but the icy surface provided poor traction for the tires, and she skidded all over the road. The car passed so close to the man she thought she could hear the bumper brush past his pants, then it rolled over the shoulder and into the woods, and everything went black.