As KR and I were driving East on Route 2 today we went through some construction on a bridge. There were jersey barriers on both sides of the road.
That made me think of the time she and I were in Connecticut heading south on 95. We were in the middle of construction on the highway but traffic was still moving at 70 for the most part. The jersey barriers squeezed the lanes down to just wide enough for two brave cars to travel side by side. A semi beside me would have made my heart race.
As we went around a curve suddenly twenty dollar bills were blowing on our windshield then up and off around us. For a split second I pondered stopping to get rich then thought better of it because I would just get dead. Squashed like a bug on a windshield if I ran out greedy on that highway.
As we went around the next curve- still doing 50- there jammed up against the jersey barrier was a motorcycle. The right fiberglass saddlebag had been ripped off and open. The poor motorcyclist was running into traffic grabbing what money he could.
As we zipped by I remember telling KR, “I hope that guy is still alive 15 minutes from now. It’s just awful his rent money all over the highway.” She said, “Rent money? Ha. I bet it was drug money.” We never found out.
That was the only time I ever felt like I was in that game show phone booth with the fan blowing bills all over the place and I’ve got one minute to grab as many as I can.
I didn’t get any bills that day long ago. I did get to keep breathing, and I got a story. That was the only time I wished I had a sun roof though. Stories are hiding every where in plain sight- even on 95 South.
Tony Toledo, June 27, 2016