Fiction
Morning Crusade on the Loop

    I pressed hard against my gas pedal as I eased my ’94 Chevy truck into the congestion of early morning traffic.  Her gleaming green body fit neatly behind the hunter green Mack truck and in front of the sedate black sedan, we were cruising at a comfortable 60 mph with plenty of room between us all. As other turning vehicles pulled into the center lane begging for entry to the main road, I would move over and given them leeway to join us on our chase towards our many separate destinations.
            Engaging my right turn signal, I prepared to enter the turn lane that would feed me onto the feeder road of the freeway. Just before I make my move, the sedate black sedan from earlier zips in front of me almost causing me to eat their bumper! Furious obscenities echo and bounce around inside the well insulated cab of my faithful old chevy. My truck understands my fears that are reverberating through her cabin. “This fool will cause a wreck,” I scream. “Damn idiot had 3 blocks of space behind me; why in the HELL must he strive to be first?
            With this catastrophe avoided, I feed into the 70 mph traffic heading west on the loop. My trucks body is glinting in the sun as her freshly bathed and waxed paint and chrome vie for attention. Her grill, like a giant smile, anxiously reaches into the wind as we plow forward. Her California bumper, almost as large as her tailgate, protects us from rear attacks with the glare that welcomes all who drive too close to us. We cruise on.
            Ahead, in the distance, I see the black sedan (not so sedate anymore) aggressively passing cars and trucks at an increasingly alarming rate of speed. Again, I spew awkward blasphemies inside the cab aimed at this specific drivers’ ignorant action on the road. I hear sirens behind me and when I gaze into my rear view mirror, I see some poor driver now located in the median ditch. I think to myself, “damn black sedan must have cut too close and bruised the distance between them!”
            As I focus my vision to aim for the evil car, I become somewhat obsessed with getting their plate number so that I can report their actions to the police. Someone has got to stop them and bring this type of driving to the attention of the proper authorities before someone ends up smeared all over the pavement. I decide that it will be me. I carefully increase pressure on the gas pedal and make sure to use my blinkers and mirrors when changing lanes. I don’t wish to be responsible for any wrecks you know. As I regain sight of the deathmobile (my name for him now), I take a moment to check behind me once again. My God! Two more cars have been involved in a wreck and this time I see an ambulance has been dispatched to the scene.
            With this new kink in play, I redouble my attempt to catch this deathmobile. “You son of a bitch, how dare you have so little regard for human life! Courtesy costs you nothing,” I scream into the electrified air. For some reason, my truck sputters like she doesn’t want to continue the chase! I get the feeling that she is against me here but, I urge her forward by once again stepping harder on her gas pedal, she complies with my demand. I am so close to catching that little mother fucker, I don’t want to lose them now.
            Again I hear sirens in the distance behind me and check my side mirrors for confirmation of another accident. “Whoa, what’s this?” I ask the gray dashboard of my ride. There must be a whole fleet of police cars coming to the rescue now. No longer is there regular traffic behind me and not many remain in front of me either.
            As I start to slow my truck and ease to the side of the road (preparing to let them do their job of course), the strangest thing happens! This fleet of red and blues surround me and my truck! They are herding me like some wild animal as they make a circle around me, damn, they are acting like I would try to get away. After we are all at a standstill, they alight from the black and whites with guns drawn AND pointed in my direction! “What the fuck is going on here?”, I scream. I exit my door only when they give me permission to do so and the next thing I know, I find myself face down on the ground with a cop on my back. My poor old truck is sighing it seems as her motor hisses on a cool down from our run. I try to tell them (the police) that the deathmobile is getting away, that they better hurry before they lose him forever. I can see it fading into the horizon even as I speak the words.
            As soon as they realize that I have no clue why the converged upon me with such force, they sit me down in the back seat of one of the nearest coughing black and whites. As the smokes clears from its exhaust, they start to tell me the oddest story. I can’t believe my ears.
            Oh my God, I cry as tears make burning trails down what was once a vengeful face. You see, it wasn’t the black sedan that I name the deathmobile causing all those wrecks. It wasn’t the driver in a hurry to first that was so damn inconsiderate to everyone else. No, it was none of those. It was my shiny california bumper that caused a glare in everyones eyes, so brightly that they couldn’t see the road.
            One man died, crying out for his wife with his last haggard breath. They said he was reaching out in front of himself as if he could see her.
            His wife....was....me.