Throwing Rocks at Chuck Norris

I was driving from Tennessee to north Florida by way of Interstate 65 with my oldest niece in the back seat. I was behind my brother-in-law and his van loaded with a few other nieces and my sister. It was an old-fashioned caravan, y’all! Like the good ol’ days when they used wagons and horses and wooden wheels. Their problems were issues like life-threatening sicknesses but mine? Mine was big time. A piece of earth with violent intentions blazing through the atmosphere with the launch power of a Scud missile and a radar locked on MY FACE! However, the small rock was intercepted mid-air by a Patriot missile… also known as my windshield. The resulting damage was a crack that slowly began to spread across the glass. Unfortunately, insurance didn’t cover this type of damage in the state of Alabama and now that I think about it, don’t even get me started on all the reasons I don’t like that state anyway! The only good things to come out of Alabama are Jameis Winston  and my Versa every time we pass through! I could’ve forked over the cash to have new glass installed but as odd as it may sound, I’m proud of my windshield so I won’t replace it.  For so long I’ve taken for granted that I have a giant piece of very strong glass in front of me, protecting me as I drive a metal entrapment down the road at blazingly fast yet limit obeying speeds. Plus, this life-protecting glass has the word shield in it and right now I can’t think of a more manly word. Shield. It’s like Chuck Norris is laying across my dashboard. -Out of the Wilderness