It was an action packed few seconds.  The little dog was yapping frantically, the woman holding it was screaming hysterically while her husband gawped in wide-eyed horror.  If they hadn’t seen me before they pulled onto the highway, they certainly could now.

Slamming on the brakes, I somehow managed to slew around their caravan and 4WD.  Meanwhile, on the on the radio, a singer warbled, ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’.  I was yodelling something similar myself.

But Jesus was obviously on His coffee break, so it was up to me to get out of this mess; again.

I used up quite a lot of real estate getting my car back under control, and for once, the semi-trailer that usually appears at such times didn’t show.  So, um, thankyou Jesus.

Sliding to a halt in front of a billboard which informed me, ‘Tired Drivers Die’, I slowly lifted both feet off the brake pedal and started breathing again.

The 4WD and caravan wobbled by and the little dog continued giving me an earful so I couldn’t make out what the woman was yelling, but I did see her husband waving at me; he really should have used a lot more fingers.

This goose had nearly killed all of us, and somehow, it was my fault?!  Doesn’t anyone take responsibility anymore?

I gripped the steering wheel and sincerely wished (not for the first time) that my car had a roof mounted rocket launcher.  Then Slim Dusty started singing ‘Lights On The Hill’, and I sighed as thoughts of fiery revenge disappeared faster than my brake pads.

Humming along with Slim, I flicked on the indicator, double checked my mirrors then pulled out in front of a couple of motorcyclists who were conducting a high-speed highway time trial.

That was an action packed few seconds.