It was already raining lightly when I left the office late Friday afternoon. By the time I merged onto the interstate, the gentle summer rain had turned into a gushing torrent of water. Somewhere along I-459 south of Birmingham, I could barely seen the tail lights of the car creeping along in front of me.
Traffic was bumper to bumper in all three lanes of each direction. We inched along dangerously. I was afraid of what I might hit as I kept going forward, but I was equally afraid of being hit in the rear if I didn’t move fast enough.
I simply couldn’t see what was going on — and I was afraid that trying to pull off the road was no better since I couldn’t see anything and others couldn’t see me.
So I moved along blindly — barely moving — as buckets of rain continued to fall from the sky.
And then I saw something that seemed like a faint shaft of light in the sky off to my right. The rain still beat down furiously, but where was that light coming from?

Bureaucrats will find a way to punish you, so don’t make ’em mad
FRIDAY FUNNIES
In a vulnerable moment, woman confesses she’s scared to change
Parent has to realize a child isn’t just miniature version of himself
Advice to fast food restaurant execs: stop ‘innovating,’ do the basics right
Fear of making trade-offs to get best life leaves us with nothing
As nightmares plague my friends, I’m grateful mine have subsided
Creators must be wary of making propaganda or work for own ego
Ban on saggy pants: Why do we require laws against looking foolish?