from Richard

My head and arms were hanging out the car window, the way a dog likes to ride with his snout into the wind. I was about five years old in the era before children were strapped into car seats. My father’s best friend, “Uncle Mac,” was driving. Dad was sitting next to him.

It was a curvy road and every time we went around a bend, I squealed with delight.

At a certain point a voice said to me, “Go see what your father and Uncle Mac are doing.” Although I couldn’t remember when I had heard it before, the voice was familiar to me, and it didn’t seem odd that it was speaking now.

“Okay,” I said, pulling my head in and flopping my arms over the center back of the front seat.

In that instant, the door I had been leaning against swung wide open.

Uncle Mac immediately pulled over. In stunned silence we contemplated how close we had come to tragedy.