Picture this: a woman and her truck, driving home late on a Sunday night. She is tired but has a deadline she must attend to. The roads are empty of all save the bored sheriffs cars lodge in by the odd off ramp and the occasional drunk taking up three lanes. Suddenly, a cloud bursts over head. She has entered - The Storm Zone!
And her damned wipers aren't working!
They make a lovely ggggrrrrrr noise that indicates that the motor is functioning. But no wiping. It is dark, there are sheets of rain and I can't see a freaking thing. Joy. A half hour of squinting, swearing and more squinting. Obviously I've survived the experience but hell and damnation I could do without the adrenaline surge right now!
And my hair still looks like a swamp rats nest!
Calgon, take me away!!!!!!!
3 comments:
Ah, a woman and her truck, the oldest story in the book...well, second oldest at least.
Chick it is time to take that truck in before you get killed or kill something
I told you to crash on the couch and watch movies and drive home in the morning.
Big brothers occasionally know bet.
JOn
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