Moonlight on the Horizon

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It was one of those late hot summer nights, when the humidity was finally taking a turn to the better and a full moon had risen just over our Tennessee hills, as I pulled from the local service station to head home. During my stop at the station’s gas pump, I had taken the time to clean every inch of my windshield from several days of driving. My truck’s front glass now glistened in the moonlight, and I even felt like it drove better due to being able to see so clearly across the hood with my truck pointed home.

While enjoying the night’s miles of the drive, along with the rays of soft moonlight coming down into the truck, out of nowhere a flying bug the size of a small aircraft decided to commit suicide right in the middle on the driver’s side of my freshly cleaned windshield. That bug must have just been making a return trip from the Gulf Coast and been helping Exxon suck up some oil leakage, because when it hit my clean glass, there was enough grease that splattered out to have greased the tracks for the CSX rail lines from here to St. Louis. I went from an evening view of bliss to trying to look through a vision of “who soaped the windows at Halloween.” There was no way to see around the innards of that escapee from Jurassic Park.

Attempting to keep my eye on the centerline, I did what any experienced driver should not do, but I did it anyway. Yeah, I hit the windshield-washer button. Now my entire windshield resembled a misguided modern art painting, and with each swipe of the wiper arm, the bug goo became even gooier. All I knew to do was to keep pumping the washer fluid to the scene of the crime and hope that the bug had not been eating an insoluble substance of some type.

As I continued to frantically hit the washer fluid button, I heard a sound no one wants to hear during a bug-cleansing operation of this type. The windshield-washer reservoir was running dry and was taking its final breaths. With the gasp of a winded runner, the last drop of blue washer fluid landed on the bug innards to no avail. The kamikaze bug had taken me out, causing me to coast to the side of the road, delaying the final miles home.

In the cupholder of my car, I had a half-full cup of cold drink from a stop at a restaurant. The ice had melted, making what was left all watery – and the only liquid I had available at the moment. With the wipers going, making a strange sound from an oversupply of bug innards, I poured the leftover cold drink slowly over the windshield. Like one of those “As Seen On TV” ads, the bug guts melted off, and the wipers changed their tune to a happier note, if that could be possible. The windshield wasn’t perfect, but clear enough to let the moonlight back through and for me to drive on home, bug or no bug.

Pulling into my driveway, I decided this little adventure had a moral just like any story. Life is just like your car’s windshield. Many days, your drive down life’s highway is as clear as can be and the sunlight will seem to be never-ending, but there is usually a bug out there somewhere that will come on the scene and hit you right where you are looking. Now, that bug was also having a pretty good day until you came along. Just remember to try to avoid the bugs, and those you can’t, work around them until you can see a little bit clearer what life has in store for you. Life is full of bug innards, but there are also a lot of moonbeams as well, just waiting to make your view of life more enjoyable.

With this article comes the close of Read All About It in the Tennessee Home & Farm magazine and any other publication that I know of. I’ve chosen to leave while I still have moonbeams coming through my windshield and life is enjoyable. I have enjoyed my years of bringing smiles to thousands of homes, and hopefully someday soon a new book will be compiled with many of these stories for those who would like to keep them on the shelf for future reading. For now, Uncle Sid and Aunt Sadie bid you all a fond farewell, and may your ’mater saminches always drip down your arm.


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