Monday, November 15, 2004

Walking Away: Chapter 11: Road Rage

“God damn it!” Doug shouted in frustration. He had made good time the entire way so far and now within thirty miles of his destination, he was trapped behind a long line of traffic snaking up a mountain side behind some slow moving RV. He imagined it was some old gray haired bespectacled geezer who couldn’t see over the dashboard. Why in the world, would someone be driving that thing out in this rain at this time of night? Damn fool he thought, anybody driving one of those things out to be drug out and shot.

Doug’s throat felt like it was on fire and his head felt like a ticking time bomb. He had been on a continuous drip of cold medicine since he left and though it kept his nose from running, it really didn’t do much for the other symptoms. He felt lethargic and mentally slow but figured he still had enough mental resources left to make it to the address where he was supposed to pick up the car. It was only thirty miles away on Fire Tower Road or as the seller had said, ‘Far Tar Road.’ Sometimes these hicks just had too much of an accent to be smart. Nobody every heard of a brain surgeon with a thick southern accent and probably for good reason too.

Up ahead, the RV pulled off the road at a roadside overlook of the valley below and the traffic finally started picking up speed. Doug rolled down his window and gave the RV driver a show of his thoughts by flipping him the bird as he drove by. “God damn bastard, it’s about time,” he muttered and rolled the window back up. The drivers of the vehicles up ahead must have been having much the same feelings because he was able to accelerate to about sixty-five and keep pace with the string of traffic. With the rain and the spray kicked up by the vehicles up front, he couldn’t see anything but the taillights of the two vehicles in front of him. It didn’t really matter, he just kept his eyes glued on their lights and aimed his truck to follow in the path that they cut through the rainy night. The line of cars just played follow-the-leader and hoped that the car out in front of the line wouldn’t drive off the road lest they all follow it right off the mountain. His grandfather used to having a saying about the blind leading the blind and Doug thought it fit the current situation to a tee.

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