by Pat Merewether

Created on: May 08, 2010   Last Updated: August 13, 2010

It was the kind of February day that makes you wonder if it will every be warm and sunny again.   The aging snow and ice piles along Dixie Highway had gone a dirty gray and the sky matched, making it appear as if this was the only color the earth had to offer.  That morning, as I'd listened to  the weather man on Channel 7 say “drive carefully”  abd “bundle up!” once again, I felt a strange compassion for Elvis, who'd shot his television.   

About ten minutes into my commute, I discovered that something had gone wrong with the heater in my old Chevy as it wheezed and coughed along as if it too suffered from the sub-zero morning.  My fingers and toes grew numb as I tried to avoid a spin-out.  I groaned and cursed when I saw the gates lowering and the red lights flashing at the railroad crossing.  This was going to be another one of those days when I’d arrive at work cold, cranky and late, despite leaving home earlier than I thought would be necessary.  That's when  I had the brilliant idea of taking an alternate route, one I'd stumbled upon during what we call Construction Season’ in Michigan; sometimes referred to as  summer, when all major roads and freeways are simultaneously shut down for repair.  

I pulled into the driveway of a Marathon station and drove out the far side, silently apologizing to the owner for the trespass.  I’d fill up there next time, I promised, I’d even go inside and buy an expensive cup of gas-station cappuccino.   Feeling a pretty clever to have remembered this short cut, I cruised along White Lake Road at twenty-eight miles per hour - twice the speed I'd reached on Dixie.  This euphoria lasted almost ten minutes, until I saw the fearsome red, white and blue lights of a state police car up ahead. Brake lights blinked on in front of me.  A cop and several people huddled against the wind at the side of the road and stared at a Hummer laying on it's side in the ditch below like a downed yellow elephant. This was NOT going to be a short cut.  I'd be lucky to reach work by lunch time
The traffic clogged around me.  I stared at an over-sized, tricked out pickup truck in front of me sporting a bumper sticker that said, “Save The Whales.”   Really? 

I looked  for another escape route, but there was none.  To my left was a golf course and to my right a cemetery, the

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