Once the road entered the deep piney woods, everything changed. Even though it was early summer, the forest light was perennially autumnal; composed of a patchwork of shadows in various gradations of green and brown. Much more startling than the visual shift, however, was the hush; the muting of all ambient sound. She spoke a word out loud just to make sure her ears hadn’t become compromised.
She could feel the low hum of her Prius’s engine and transmission through her seat. It lulled her into a state of relaxation that was only intensified by the terrain. The surrounding trees were rooted in a series of hills and rises, so you could only see as far forward as the top of the next hill. At one point, she crested a hill and saw a pickup truck barreling up the middle of the road towards her, beeping its horn loudly, waiting until the last possible moment to veer back into its appointed lane. She was not surprised to see in her rear-view mirror that it was jacked up and had a confederate flag emblazoned on its tailgate with her least favorite political candidate’s stickers punctuating the clear message. What an asshole. Was he some redneck trying to run her off the road just because she was driving a Prius?
Since she WAS driving a Prius, she had the pedal to the metal to get her car to the top of the next hill. When she crested it, she gained speed so rapidly that she didn’t see that the road surface ahead was covered in water. She jammed on the brakes, but hydroplaned into over two feet of moving water. It seeped in sickeningly through the doors soaked into the wiring harness. She felt the vehicle become inert with her trapped inside. Its only movement was a slow steady lurching to the side caused by the current. She flipped the window switches and door locks fruitlessly.
Then she heard something hit the underside of her car, hard. Was it being dragged over rocks? It must be washing away with her inside, she thought. But then the water beaded on her windshield exploded into light. She used the handle to open her door and saw the pick-up truck that had almost run her off the road. He had one of those big fishing-reel things on his truck and had used it to pull her car out of the water.
“I managed to git my winch on your frame ‘fore you got swept over the falls,” said a reddish-gray beard wearing THAT red cap and soaking wet overalls. “I tried to stop you driving into the washout, but once I saw you were heading that way anyway, I turned around to make sure you’d be all right. Glad I did.”
“What do I owe you?” The man shook his head.
“Not a goddamned thing. You’re gonna need all your money to git your car fixed. I got Triple-A if you need a free tow.”
Literature in Small Doses 