good driver

The Craver minivan cruised along the interstate a few years ago in a dangerous, slushy, freezing blizzard. The wipers were going full speed. There were several times where the wind tried to change lanes for me, and I had to fight to keep our vehicle in the proper lane. It was dark outside, and I heavily depended on the other cars' lights to get a bearing on where the road turned. We had a long drive ahead of us, and I wanted desperately to drive faster, but the conditions just would not allow me to go any faster.

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I overtook a car in the other lane. As I closed the gap, and eventually pulled ahead, my son cheered from behind me. "We're number one! We're number one!..." I smiled.

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I little later, another car closed the gap and began to overtake US! The tables had turned. My son said, "Hurry up, Dad! They're going to win us!" "Son," I told him, "we're not out here to race; it doesn't help if I go faster and we end up in an accident. I just want to get home alive, okay?"

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The other car was right next to us now. As cheery as anything, S2 said "Okay, Dad." I maintained what I considered to be the best speed, under these conditions, and then the other car pulled ahead.

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With undiminished enthusiasm, he chanted, "We're number two! We're number two!" How cute, I thought. I grinned and laughed inside. But as reckless drivers ignored everyone's safety and continued to pass, he kept score, "...We're number nine! We're number nine!" it got old. I interjected a firm "Son, Daddy needs some quiet now..."