The Innocent Bystander

Cars stopped. People looked away. Cars crashed.

Hundreds stacked up on some interstate highway, if you believe what you see on the interwebs.

Been down those roads, late and recently, through the sweet heart of North Carolina. It’s tough out there sometimes, wondering what the cat beside you might have rattling around in his head. Boss trouble. Wife trouble. Money trouble. Maybe somebody forgot to mow the lawn. One eye on an iPhone and another in the ether, far beyond any simple help Siri might give. Over here cruising 75 miles-an-hour, real smooth, holding hard and fast to a fat jug of gas station coffee. Out there gambling on the highway, trying to use some sense.

So, this is how it begins.