This is something I scribbled one morning after driving before dawn, getting stuck behind a professional driver on an otherwise empty road and trying to understand why I was the one in a rush. I’ve cleaned it up a bit since that first draft, to try to tighten it. It’s still not there, but it’s closer. It could use some more description to give a better sense of place and time of day and to put the reader in the car and give a peek into the main character’s mind. I don’t think it conveys strongly enough the main character’s anxiety and how maddened they are by the nonchalant speed of the professional driver. In other words, it’s skeletal. But a good skeletal, the kind that can be built on and would hold up.
The “TCP-XXXX” decal on the back of the black SUV before him signaled this was a professional driver. Someone sent to chauffeur those well off enough to not need Uber even before Uber was ever around. He usually tried to steer clear of professional drivers. They drove for the money and too often to take care. But he had no choice here on this single-lane street away from the main road.
Anyway, what was this driver doing here before dawn driving slower than the speed limit? No way they had a passenger. Maybe they couldn’t find the pick-up spot.
Still, they didn’t seem to notice that he had nosed up behind, to nudge them along or out of the way. If they did, they didn’t seem to mind.
Eventually he let his foot off the pedals to stop from switching between gas and brake. He let the car roll as the road sloped downhill and ramped back up. The distance between him and the professional driver didn’t change. They must have let their foot off the gas too.