Spin them wheels

Delicious ice coats the streets as drivers spin their anxiety wheels. Trying to get somewhere fast or last.

Pedestrians slow down or fall down.

Speaking of down, it's worth mentioning a recent vision.

You were in a taxi heading to old Roman ruins filled with bones. An army car with flashing lights entered the highway. It was followed by an army truck filled with bright flowers. It was followed by another army truck carrying an olive drab green casket draped with a red flag. The odd yet true thing was that the red color was blood, and, as the truck roared along the highway it left a trail of blood in its wake. It coagulated quickly in the frozen light of dawn as the trail grew longer and longer until it disappeared into the faint glow of a dull faint stain edging into secret stone passages where memories saluted fallen heroes.

This convoy of memories was heading to a cemetery where family, friends and strangers waited on a bitter cold day. They were holding hands and wearing frozen tears. They cried, "Goodbye. We hardly knew you."