Crazy is as crazy does
One day on I-20 in Mississippi, I heard some drivers discussing two cars banging doors like a NASCAR race, with one forcing the other into the median. When the cars came to a stop, a fistfight ensued, just like Cale Yarborough and Bobby Allison.
I thought they were talking about a “Smokey and the Bandit”-type movie until I rounded the bend to find traffic stopped and two banged-up cars in the median. I was about fourth in line when a guy ran toward my truck and yelled frantically, “Mister, you gotta help me!”
I motioned him to get in the passenger side. He climbed in just as I saw a young woman charging toward the truck.
“Is she with you?” I asked.
“Hell, no,” he said.
By then we were rolling, and as I picked up speed I noticed she was still hanging on. “You better tell that crazy @#%& to let go, because I ain’t slowing down,” I told him.
We were approaching the fight scene and I didn’t want to get swarmed by the other guys giving us some mean looks. She must have heard me, because she let go. Looking in the mirror, I saw her running along the trailer like a hobo trying to jump a boxcar, but she soon gave up, and I got the hell out of Dodge.
At the next exit, the guy asked me to let him out. I was amazed at how calm he was, like this happened to him all the time. As I stopped to relinquish my unfortunate passenger, he asked me, “Hey dude, you need some good dope?”
“No thanks,” I said, and off I went.
I began to wonder if I had helped the wrong person, because he sure had a lot of folks after him. We’ll never know.
“Mustang,” Evans, GA
We have a lot of life lessons in Murphy’s World, but Life Lesson No. 1 has to be never, under any circumstances unless you want to end up six feet under, get in the middle of a domestic dispute between a “crazy” (your words, not mine) woman and her equally crazy spouse/ex-spouse/boyfriend/ex-boyfriend/dealer/pimp/whatever. Anyone who is willing to play bumper cars with real cars on a real highway is certifiable. Besides, these situations tend to end badly for all concerned, especially the innocent bystanders/Good Samaritans such as yourself.
Consider yourself lucky. You dodged a bullet, figuratively and perhaps literally. You’re right, we will never know who was the bad guy or girl in this little drama, and that’s just as well. Some of Murphy’s life lessons just don’t need to be learned the hard way.
Murphy and Lucky Dog