We totally almost died yesterday. And by that I mean that we didn't even come close to actually dying but WE COULD HAVE. If the vehicle that was driving south on the I-15 north had slammed into us, that is. But we didn't die because my husband maneuvered our van LIKE A BOSS. A soccer-mom-van driving boss.
I was reading to the boys and Troy yelled and I looked up and there is was...a GIANT Suburban type vehicle flying at us, IN OUR LANE, driving fast. Troy (aka The Boss), had a split second to decide which direction to swerve, hoping the maniac car would not swerve the same way. Because, no one wants to hit a giant car when both vehicles appear to be going the speed limit (or, maybe, er, a little over the speed limit.) on THE FREEWAY.
Praise God, the other car swerved the other direction and so, when we passed, we were actually two lanes apart. But, for a minute there, we were playing a heart attack inducing game of chicken in the middle of I-15 just south of Provo.
As we passed by, Troy slammed on his horn and I craned my neck to watch the mayhem behind me as the insane driver dodged more PROPERLY TRAVELING VEHICLES. Then I called 911. I'd never called 911 before and found it disheartening that it took approximately 10 rings before my call was answered. WHAT IF I WAS UNDER MY BED HIDING FROM AN ARMED BURGLAR? WHAT IF MY HOUSE WAS BURNING TO THE GROUND? WHAT IF I WAS SEVERELY MAIMED AND MY KID WAS CALLING? I promise my kids would give up before the tenth ring and just wander outside to play while I died slowly (or quickly) of maim.
When she answered she asked, "Is this concerning a wrong way driver on I-15?"
"Yes it is," I replied, a little thrown that the emergency operator was also a psychic.
"We're on our way," she replied. I thanked her and hung up. Not a minute later, cops flew quickly by (in their proper place in the SOUTHBOUND lanes where any rational human being would be if he WANTED TO GO SOUTH).
Nothing was reported on the news so I'm assuming there was no real harm done. We all lived to see another day and I found out that I married a mini van boss. Which, really, who knew?