Page 21 - Publishing Inspiration Christmas Card 2013

engine. I reached 50 miles per hour, and then looked in
my rear view mirror. The gap between us was still

getting smaller.”
Uncle Hickory took some deep breaths, trying to
calm himself. “As he was almost on my bumper I put the
pedal to the floor, rather to die from a wreck than to have

that ghostly demon take me away. The speedometer
climbed to 80 then to 90. I looked straight ahead, afraid
to take my eyes off of the road. Finally, I glanced in my
rear view mirror and no longer saw him. I felt a surge of
relief flood over me when...”
Uncle Hickory paused, the blood draining from his

face as the memory came back. We all leaned forward
anxious for the rest of the story.
“Just at the moment I thought I’d lost him,” he
continued, “there was a knock on my window. I turned,

and there he was right by my door. I looked at my
speedometer, and it said I was going over 100 miles per
hour, and still he stayed right there. I knew at that point I
only had one chance.”
“What?” we asked.

“What?” he responded. “I’ll tell you what. I
slammed on the brakes and then tore my way across the
car and out the passenger side. I plowed through the
snow and across the field, running for the light of a house
I could see in the distance. I never looked back until I

made it safely there. Once inside, I looked over my
shoulder, and he was gone.”
A few days later, Bart, a friend of mine, stopped to
visit with me. “By the way, how is your Uncle Hickory?”
“He’s okay,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”

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