The Slowest Lane


My view from the slow lane. In this case,
it was the non-moving lane.
As an innocent newborn, I was cursed. An enchanted, yet evil, witch disguised as a nurse found me in the nursery while my mother recovered. The witch then waved her wand over my head and chanted her incantation. From that day forward, I was destined to control the speed of the lane in which I would drive.
As soon as I maneuver into a lane where the traffic is moving swiftly, brake lights flash brightly in front of me. The cars in the lane out of which I moved then pick up speed and zip by.

I'm convinced my father, rest his soul, cut someone off on the way to the hospital when Mom was ready to bring me into the world. My dad took defensive driving up twelve notches. He contributed greatly to the development of the phrase, "road rage."
I've come to accept my curse. If I see a driver acting ridiculously while trying to outsmart bumper to bumper traffic, I slide into his lane and stop him altogether. There could be three cars between us, but that's okay. As long as he's in the same lane as I, he won't be getting anywhere anytime soon.

Micki Bare, mother of three, wife, daughter & writer is the author of Thurston T. Turtle children's books. 

Email: mickibare (at) gmail.com
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