Well, I've done it now.  I've completed Nanowrimo 2007 with a novel called "Train Trax."  The novel is not completed as of this date, but for this moment, I'm done.

 

 

 

All right... so Monday I drove to Spokane to help my Grandma and Grandpa. 

 

On the way to town, this big red flatbed gets on the freeway at the Medical Lake onramp.  No biggie, right?

 

Well, it's like he's on drugs or something because he wants to drive down the shoulder.  The only problem with that is the rumble strips.  They startle him, over and over each time, he overcorrects.  Scary stuff, but you know, I'm a little impatient and I decide to pass him.  Cars are passing him one at a time; it's kinda weird.

 

So I get out in front of him at quite an acceptable distance and change lanes so other cars can get past me.  I'm driving a '86 Subaru, the hamsters are strokin' out.  (Actually, that's not funny, so don't laugh.  --Well, you can laugh at my car, just not about strokin' out.)

 

The speed limit drops from 70 mph to 60 mph as we hit the city line.  This guy starts screamin' up behind me, but where am I going to go?  Nowhere.  I can't drive faster than the car in front of me.  The moment we merge with Highway 2, I get over in that lane.  So I'm passing cars left and right now, well--no, actually I'm just passing cars to my left, there are no cars to my right.  This guy s is still swerving in his lane a bit, and I'm shaking my head in disbelief.

 

New challenge, the lane I decided to jump into has a dangerous merge point coming up, I mean seriously nasty, deadly badness.  It's not a big deal, if you're paying attention.  So I reach this point, and there are no cars mergring from the Pullman highway; I'm clear, right?  Wrong.

 

I'm in the lane that exits onto the Maple street exit.  the lane continues after that, but many people like this lane now.  Someone's in front of me... someone's behind me at a safe distance, but this white truck--like a work sort of truck is directly to my right.  Am I in his blind spot?  Will he push me off the bridge? 

 

So I edge forward.  I know he can see the nose of my car.  But he just stays right there, pacing me.  I'm thinkin' he's complete freak.  Dude, you can totally get in front of me, or drop behind!  C'mon!

 

At the last moment, he drops behind me.  From my point of view, it looks like he nearly took my bumper off, but he didn't.  There's no contact, and my depth perception isn't always the best anyway.  So now he's breathing down my neck behind me, worse than that stupid red flatbed truck from the Medical Lake onramp.

 

I come to a stop behind traffic at the red light, and he jumps out of our lane into the lane to the right.  He's got a million miles to the stop line; I'm four cars back, but he stops right next to me.

 

I finally look up at his face.  He's hanging out the window of a white work van, smiling broadly, breaking his arm, waving at me.  Eyes wide...

 

It was my husband.  I blew him kisses.

 

He drives off to the stop line, and I glanced in my rear view mirror.  The people behind me are shrugging and bewildered.

 

There's a million people in our county--what are the odds of finding someone on a freeway travelling 60-70 mph?