It was a dark and gloomy night and I was glad I was not driving.
Then I remembered a dark night when I was alone in my car at the wheel. It was a dark night, a very dark night, a black night. I was returning from a book association board meeting which lasted too long. (They all do, don’t they?) It was out of my neighborhood and before the days of GPS.
This road had no street lamps, little traffic. I drove with my eyes glued to the tail lights of the car ahead of me. I was following it on blind faith, literally. Suddenly his red light blinked, he made a sharp right turn off the road and was gone. He was home free. Me? I figured I had about a mile ahead of me until my turn–off corner. Did I say it was pitch black outside?
I hastily looked at my rear view mirror and saw a stream of cars now following me. Cleverly I pulled over to the right and crawled almost to a stop, allowing the car behind me to move ahead. I watched as the whole line of them imitated my act. No sir, I was lead navigator and was not being relieved of that honor. Bravely, timidly, blindly I pulled ahead, with my face thrust forward almost on the window as if that would help. I realized if I zigged where the road zagged, we would have an enormous pile-up I wouldn’t even get to see. It was with enormous relief that I approached what instinct told me was my turn-off and on to a better-lit street.
What did I learn from that experience? Nothing.