interstate ninety west: Through Malevolent Weather

It had been raining all day. I had traveled four-hundred or five-hundred miles at this point, and still, rain. The weird characteristic of this un-delightful deluge was that it didn't even sound like rain. It was like a persistent mist that hung over I-90. I kept thinking to myself, when I get through this valley or when I get through this state, there will be clear skies, there has to be. But the opening of the sky and the dissipation of dark, heather gray clouds, never happened. Passing trucks became treacherous if precipitation increased at all beyond inconsequential mist. Visibility through Pennsylvania, at points, was only fifty feet or so in front of you, where vehicles were perpetually being swallowed up in the fog laying on the horizon. Idiots, I thought rather nervously, when a car in front of me disappeared into the wall of gray and they hadn't bothered to put on their lights, losing themselves into my imagination. I wouldn't know if I had crashed until I was crashed. I had to keep speeding down to, at maximum, five over the speed limit, a rare accomplishment for me. All the while, small dust and water particles collided with my windshield, mimicking the sound produced by unconnected cable televisions turned on in frustration, or maybe desperation, but always certainly with no good rational reason.