The Slow Car on Route 9
Dana was running late for church, and the beige Buick in front of her on Route 9 was doing twenty-five in a forty-five. There was a double yellow line the whole way past the Henderson farm, so she sat behind it tapping the wheel and telling the windshield, “Sir, it’s the pedal on the right.”
When the road finally opened up, she swung around him and pulled into the Sunoco on Pine for gas. A minute later the Buick crept into the pump beside her, and that’s when she saw the magnet on the driver’s door that said STUDENT DRIVER.
The man who stepped out was at least eighty, wearing a pressed tan jacket, and he gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I held you up back there,” he said. “I’m new at this.” Dana opened her mouth, realized nothing very Christian was ready to come out of it, and closed it again.
“My wife did all the driving for fifty-two years,” he said. “She passed in April, and it turns out the grocery store doesn’t come to you.”
Dana stood there with the nozzle in her hand, suddenly in no hurry at all, while he looked back down the road he’d just come from.
“Ruthie never honked at anybody once,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure out how she did it.”
FOR THE ROAD
“Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.” – James 1:19
Most of the people slowing us down have a story we can’t see from behind the wheel. This week, before you lean on the horn, out loud or in your head, give someone the few extra seconds it takes to find out what their story is.
Missed last week’s story? Read The Nice Man Who Didn’t Turn Around
