Saturday, April 18, 2009

Fast and Furious

No, I don't mean the movie. Over Easter weekend we visited our daughter and our youngest grandchild in St. Louis. In the first 30 minutes, we experienced our first serious case of road rage. Taking the left leg of a "y" exit, I saw the white truck first, zooming up on my side, the passenger side, parallel to us. One second, nothing was on right, the next second the white truck was next to me.

The truck began coming over the white line into our lane. We've all seen that happen and have probably done it ourselves. I figured it would just gravitate back into its own lane once the driver noticed the situtation.

However, this truck kept coming over into our lane to the point that there was only 6 inches between us. I screamed, alerting Micheal, who seeing the situtation, began moving over to the left to avoid a crash. The truck kept coming over further. Mike then accelerated, hoping to pull ahead of the truck. The truck kept pace with us and coming further into our lane. At this point he was about 2 feet into our lane.

There was a highway below us and it seemed a crash was evident. Either from the truck actually hitting us or us going into the highway below. Then suddenly, the driver gave us the finger, jerked his steering wheel suddenly and went into the right "y" of the exit, weaving back and forth from the force.

Shaken, for the next hour we attempted to figure out why the driver did this. We couldn't think of a point where we had gone into his lane or cut him off accidentally. No clue. We just considered ourselves protected by God.

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