Tour 2: It is a clear night in Oxfordshire

It is a clear night in Oxfordshire, and the stars and the moon have come out to play. As we race away from the dreaming spires to the welcoming blackness of the Cotswolds, they become more luminous. I stretch my eyes open as far as I can to reduce my squint, and I see the crescent moon winking back at me. The stars glitter, and then glitter again in the reflection of the car window, as the ribbon of road shifts left, right, undulates up, down. I can't tell which is truer, the sight of them, or the reflection of them. Does the infintessimal fraction of time between them make any difference? I think the smears of light through the glass might be a vapour trail. But then a plane blinks overhead red, green and two columns of plume follow it, falling away at the left as time chases space chases distance chases speed chases hedgerow chases tarmac chases car chases time.