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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila 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 Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Chariots of Fire....
   

Chariots of Fire


view detailsIt 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 year.

"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 accidents.

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 melted.

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
 
 



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