Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
||Chariots of Fire....
started out to be a commute home from work like any other day.
Rush hour is never a pleasant experience. Everybody wants to get
home as fast as they can, it seems, and they don't really want
anything getting in their way.
Suddenly there was a strange noise like the tail pipe was
hitting the bottom of the car. "Is that our car making that
noise?" I asked.
I was hoping it was another car and not ours at all, but no such
luck. It was our car all right, our only-a-year-old almost new
car. There was nothing to do but get off the road as soon as
possible before the entire bottom fell out. Unable to get to the
right side due to traffic, we had to pull off on the left.
Drivers have little patience when they are on the Interstate
highway traveling at high speed. "We are going to be
killed," I thought. One of these cars is going to slam into
us and smash us to smithereens.
Honey got out to check. "Well, it isn't the tail
pipe," he said. "We have a flat tire."
Honey is a smart man. He works in computer security, speaks a
foreign language and graduated from a major eastern university.
But when it comes to fixing things, he is worthless.
"Do we have On Star?" I asked hopefully, remembering
the time he locked the dog inside and himself outside and
totally forgot about having roadside assistance available.
Unfortunately, he had decided not to renew it after the free
"AAA, we can call them to come rescue us." So we
scrambled around until we came up with the plastic membership
card. Cars were rushing by so fast that our car rocked in the
wind. "We are going to die," I thought.
Honey proceeded to place a call to AAA, trying to explain where
we were so they could send road service to help us.
"Tell them we are going to die, so hurry," I said,
remembering the last time we had a flat years ago. We had waited
and waited for AAA until finally a Good Samaritan stopped and
changed the tire for us.
I saw a truck pull off the road on the other side. The state has
vehicles that patrol the busiest sections of the Interstate to
help people with car problems, people like us. They do it to
keep the roads open, traffic moving, and to prevent secondary
That yellow truck with the flashing light looked a whole like a
golden chariot to me. But it couldn't get across the speeding
lanes of traffic. Cars were rushing by so fast they almost
I still don't know how it happened, but when they turned on
their flashing light, the traffic miraculously parted. The truck
crossed the rushing automotive sea and pulled up behind us.
Honey got out to explain the problem to Moses. Okay, maybe it
wasn't Moses, but he sure seemed like Moses to me.
"He wants me to get further off the road," Honey said.
Well, if Moses commands it, we better do it. It's no time to be
breaking commandments right before you die.
Moses jacked up the car and did mysterious things with the tire
that I didn't understand. I later found out he had pulled out a
large metal spike that we had hit and plugged the hole. Then he
told us to go forth and buy a new tire.
While he said he worked for the Department of Transportation,
I'm still not so sure. After all, he was driving a golden
chariot that flashed like fire.
Copyright 2012 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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