Whenever I see the words Road Hog, I can’t help but
think of an incident I wrote about a few years ago.
It is early Sunday morning when I slip into the kitchen, “Are you ready, hon?”
“Just about,” David mumbles, as he reaches into the cooler.
Son David is racing today and we never miss. Mom and Dad gotta be there to cheer him on and make those yummy subs for everyone.
It’s a fun day like always. That is, until the races are over. This is a day like no other, one we will never forget.
The rage caught us completely off guard. This maniac pulls in front of our truck and slams on his brakes.
Thank God my husband has good reflexes and swerves in time to avoid a rear-ender.
If David changes lanes the van does also—and continues the sudden stops.
The nightmare continues for blocks. I am terrified. David can only concentrate on the wheel. The horror finally gets the best of me…
“Honey, please,” my voice quivers, “can’t we just pull off the road?”
As the words leave my mouth, the van turns a corner.
We were silent the rest of the way home.
May Your Glass Always Be Half Full