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It’s a bluebird sky day as the clouds float away leaving behind distinctive dry desert air scoured by sagebrush, tumbleweeds and settled sand. As for me, I cozily sit in a floral patterned recliner by an open window drinking in hot tea and cold air from the open window. Biscuit “puppy purrs'' wedged between the arm rest and me. Her features are concealed by white fur giving her the appearance of a couture throw pillow whereupon I rest my elbow. I take deep breaths and rest between the sighs knowing that I have all that I need. It is from this vantage point that I view the terror of just a few nights ago…
...Twilight in the desert descends softly as we drive into the sunset towards Payson to visit our beloved Jennifer. After a stop for gas, a quick walk for Biscuit and an unsuccessful search for my night driving glasses we are on the road again. All of a sudden the sun is in a hurry to set unlike the languishing gushes of color that stretch across coastal California for an hour before going black. At once it is thick with dark so deep that I comment to Anne that “I can’t even see a single star.” The lull of our new car is the backdrop to our audio book that keeps us entranced in the Dust Bowl days and the epic trials of those in the Texas Panhandle. We pause our entertainment to respond to Jennifer’s text with a phone call back. Our conversation starts cheerily as I give our whereabouts and ETA and is suddenly punctuated with my exclamation, “Asshole, what is he thinking?” A silver sedan with darkly tinted windows is tailgating so closely that I immediately feel threatened. The two lane highway is deserted and I am dependent on the voice emanating from the Waze app. “What the hell!” quickly follows as the car careens in front of us, pulls partially onto the shoulder and stops. Jennifer directs us with “Get off the phone and call 911!” Anne calls 911 at 7:47 p.m. and hands me the phone. The dispatcher asks for our whereabouts which I rely on Ann for since she has been our navigator extraordinaire the entire trip. She reports highway 60 and milepost 72. Imploring the dispatcher for help, holding the phone and driving instinctively, I swerve into the empty lane of oncoming traffic in an effort to pass the silver car. The car accelerates again making it impossible for me to pass. I am stuck in the lane of oncoming traffic for minutes which is mercifully empty. Another car pulls up behind me making it impossible to fall back behind the silver sedan. Eventually, that car fades back into the other lane, and I am forced behind the silver car. Now, we are stuck between the two cars at a speed of at least 80 mph. I am shrouded and can only see the car directly in front of me and the glaring brights just feet behind me. I can’t see if the road remains straight or if there are shoulders or drop offs on the sides. I scream “DLL BDK, Oregon license plate” to the dispatcher and beg for help. She says that the state troopers are on their way and I keep imploring, “Where are they? How long will it take them to find us?” She does not give me a direct answer which incites me and distills my desperation down to plaintive pleas of “Help us, help us, help us.”
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