The Drift of the Story

Late, late, always late Sheila thought as she slammed the car into gear reversing the sluggish, cold car out of the drive. "I really must take time to warm up the car" she said to her son Tony as she started on the short commute to his school while the sun slowly rose in the east. Luckily the frost on the windshield resembled a snowflake painting instead of a solid mass of ice.

Sheila turned onto the busy street connecting their neighborhood with the local elementary school. Suddenly the sun broke over the trees and the windshield became opaque. Sheila attempted to steer by what she could see, the ice encrusted side of the road through the extreme right of the windshield, slowing the car to a crawl and mentally apologizing to any cars behind her.

"Can you see?" she asked Tony who, at 6, was of limited help with navigation. "Mom!" he squeaked. "Don't worry, Tony the road curves just ahead and then I'll be able to see" she reassured her son as best she could over the "shit shit shit" monotone she heard in her head.

"AAAAAHHHH" they both yelled as the car suddenly lifted on the right side and bounced loudly scraping over the ice wall on the side of the road and suddenly coming to a stop. Sheila looked over at her son, thankful that no one was hurt.

"Don't tell Daddy"