There we were, driving down the highway on our way to a dental appointment. It was one of those days when the trucks bore down on the traffic and slowed it to a crawl. In front of us was a large touring bus; to the side a couple of ancient, dirty dump trucks.
We travelled in the middle lane, seeking the likeliest trickle of vehicles as we inched along. The left lane narrowed, coming to an end a few hundred yards ahead.
But wait! What was that? A beautiful little convertible sports car overtook and passed us on the left, narrowly missing the orange cones as it sliced just ahead of us. Who was that?
"That must be... Maniacbug*!" Triss announced ominously.
Maniacbug cooled his heels between our van and the touring bus. He was trapped like the little spiders we catch in our house in the summertime, unable to make any significant movements under the clear plastic cup. He craned his neck, then straddled the center line, provoking Triss to remark:
"It can't be Goldbug. Goldbug would never do that!"
He came back to the lane, then straddled the left line and the shoulder, coming back within bounds just in time to avoid more orange cones.
We paused at a light. Maniacbug took out his cell phone and proceeded to punch buttons.
The light turned green. But Maniacbug was absorbed in his buttons. So we sat.
The old dump trucks turned right, and suddenly he saw his chance. Straddling the center line again, he paused to consider, then...
Out and around and in front of the bus. Past the cars ahead and back to the right lane. And he was gone.
"After him, Officer Flossy! Go get Dingo!"
But alas, there was no Officer Flossy, and no pedestrian-spilled nails on the roadway either. Dingo Dog, aka Maniacbug, had escaped. We can only hope that Flossy was hiding in the grass a mile or two down the road and was able to, er, arrest Dingo's progress before he caused an accident. We made it to the dentist office safely and on time.
*(Cars and Trucks and Things That Go by Richard Scarry)