Oh wow! What a ride!!

Yesterday morning my daughter Carol and I set off on our monthly pilgrimage to the Clinic for our meds.

As usual, we got to take, an exciting and adventure filled ride on a Mini-bus Taxi.

I thought I'd become immune to the booming sub-woofers, the hooting, the driver shouting expletives at the other drivers, the swerving, and the screeching of breaks, but this trip was different.

Boy! was it ever different!! This took the meaning of terror way beyond the limits of my worst nightmares.

I was just inside the cab, and was still closing the door when the driver stomped on the gas and with wheels spinning, churned up the lawn on my sidewalk, and shot off like a professional drag racer, flinging me into the laps of the other green faced commuters!

I found a seat up front next to the driver, usually a coveted position, and I was surprised that it was still vacant. - I soon found out why.

Hanging for dear life onto the panic bars, I kept opening and shutting my eyes until I decided that knowing was better than not knowing and kept them open for the rest of the trip. I remember looking around in vain desperation trying to find something really pleasant to take with me as my last memory.

Hanging from the rear-view mirror was a Rosary with a huge Crusifix, swinging wildly around and smacking against the windscreen.

I even considered briefly about praying to St. Christopher, but then I remembered that he was presona non grata, and had been de-canonized back in 1968.

Then I caught sight of a sticker on the dash: "Jesus is my co-pilot." Man! I nearly lost it.

Thankfully, we arrived at our stop before the driver let go of the controls and yelled "Jesus, take the wheel"

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