The sight of police lights ahead prompt me to check my speed… 60mph.
I don’t really drive like a knucklehead any more.
Then the light Sunday afternoon traffic grinds to a rubbernecking crawl.
“You rubbernecking Idiots!” I share my disapproval tersely with my wife and kids… my condescending disapproval directed at the slowing mass of cars that snared me.
Unable to escape the moving roadblock, I relent and look to the other side of the highway; 495 Eastbound is completely closed. That never happens unless there’s an investigation… With a fatality.
And there it was. A white sheet draped over the unmistakable shape of a person, in the middle lane.
There was a makeshift barricade attempting to give the deceased some dignity.
Suddenly, I’m not in such a hurry any more. There was nothing surreal about someone who is no more, lying motionless on the cold, hard pavement. Friend, please take an extra minute to get where you’re going, so you *do* get there.