by Erek Smith
I feel an electricity in my arms. It courses through my biceps down to the tips of my fingers that grip the steering wheel. When cars come down the other side of the road, my arms want to jerk violently to the left. My brain becomes flooded with visions of mangled metal in flames. A soundtrack of broken car horns and frightened witnesses plays in the background. Then the car passes and I'm left with only the monotony of the road.
Erek Smith lives in Alabama and blogs here.