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?

What missed chances are you going to regret when it’s too late to change?
We’re more like other animals than we like to admit to anyone
Humans are impatient, but changes in Alabama show speed of change
Police won’t do their job, but they’ll ticket you for doing it for them
Childhood programming trains us to wait for authority’s permission
Fear of making trade-offs to get best life leaves us with nothing
Does mainstream schooling model bring out the worst in teen-agers?