Jack drove the lane and drew the coverage toward him.

"And Jack was driving for most of that time."

Jack was driving through Brooklyn the other day when he stopped at a red light.

Jack drove them to the little country hotel he had chosen, they checked in, went straight to their room and began to make love.

Jack drove the five minutes to the police station and requested the recorded 911 message.

Jack was driving again, and I slumped down in the seat.

Jack drove out of the club, turned left on the river road and headed north.

As Jack drove him home, he couldn't help thinking what a difference ten years made.

With a final look back at the station buildings, Jack drove away from the scene of his mysterious experience.