It was one of those sudden downpours that is more like a tropical rainstorm than the usual run-of-the-mill British weather. The heatwave broke and the sky turned closer to black than grey. I could see the rain streaking the sky up ahead. I noticed a sign, half-overgrown, about some Services a few miles ahead. It was a surprise to me, the road itself, snaking through the moors, even though it was a dual carriageway, was very quiet and it looked little-used. It wasn't even a road I'd heard of before and my sat-nav doubted its existence, but with the roadworks on the motorway, I'd decided to risk this route. By then, I was beginning to regret having the second mug of tea at the last Services. The lorry driver I'd shared a table with had told me of this alternate route as we sat complaining to each other about the state of this country's roads and the uselessness of other drivers.
Now, though, I needed a piss, and with the storm getting worse, I decided it would be worth taking a break at these Services, no matter how poor their facilities.
Visibility was down to a few yards and my wipers were having trouble coping with this much rain, even on the fast setting. I could feel the car lurching too, as the wind blew and the road surface became slick, if not actually underwater.
I slowed at the overgrown turning, changing down faster than I'd intended as the feeder road curved off sharply to the one side.
I parked in an almost empty car park. I took a deep breath and ran for the shelter of the doorway.
It was only when I got to the door I noticed the lights were off.
I was under cover, out of the rain. I tried the door, surprising myself when it opened.
I walked into an empty, deserted, restaurant.
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