When Patience on the Road Pays Off

We finally got on the road to my son's basketball game that was over an hour away. As per life with three kids, we were running behind schedule, and my son was worried his coach would make him run laps if we were late. As tensions in our car mounted, Mr. Sunday Morning Driver pulled out right in front of us. Traveling at the speed of a sloth, this driver put us at a pace the GPS determined would result in a twelve-minute late arrival. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, my son sighed loudly from the back seat. Though a small flurry of snow was coming down, it barely coated the roads and grass; thus, we deemed Mr. Sunday's incredibly slow rate of speed unacceptable.

A long line of cars had formed behind us, each of those drivers likely thinking the same thing: WHY SO SLOW?! I was becoming increasingly irritated as my son continued whining from his seat. I finally hissed to my husband, "What is this driver doing?!" 

Equally irritated that we were now driving twenty miles under the speed limit, my husband somehow maintained his sense of humor and joked we'd get there faster if we got out and ran. Our four-year-old daughter innocently suggested we pass the car, and upon hearing that option, all three kids began goading us: Pass it! Pass it! Though certainly tempting, we explained that the two solid lines on the road meant drivers must stay in their lane, so no one would be passing. "We'll just have to suffer this painfully slow trip together," I replied. The words were no sooner out of my mouth when a small tree on the embankment a few feet ahead of us fell onto the road right in front of the tortoise driver. Thanks to his super slow speed, everyone was able to stop with more than enough time.

We all sat idle until oncoming traffic passed, leaving room to safely drive around the tree. As we were taking our turn bypassing the felled tree, I saw it. A red pick-up truck's smashed grill and hood served as evidence of its collision with the three, causing it to fall. My husband pulled over to see if the driver needed help, but 911 had already been dispatched. As the driver, unsteady on his feet, wandered around outside the vehicle blurry-eyed and confused, it became obvious he should not have been behind the wheel. Thankfully, he appeared to be physically unharmed. 

We drove away shaking our heads, and this time our seven-year-old piped up from the back seat: "Maybe that's why we were going so slow!" She was right. Had we been traveling even ten miles-per-hour faster, the long line of cars wouldn't have been able to stop as quickly and then…who knows? In that moment, we were incredibly grateful Mr. Sunday had been in front of us. Had our go-go-go attitude been at the front of the line, maybe that red pick-up would have collided with more than the tree, and maybe our late arrival to the game would have turned into no arrival. We didn't understand the small sign at the time, but we sure do appreciate it now!