The Mini-Van Race Car

In honor of my grandson's sixth birthday: this post was written on the occasion of his birth.
Picture this:  a white mini-van ignoring all traffic rules, roaring along Atlanta's I-285, weaving and zipping between lanes.  Who was that stupid driver?  Me!

But let me explain:

"Mom, I need you to come.  I'm in labor."  (Phone call from my pregnant daughter.)

"Are you going to the hospital now?"

"No, I've got time.  Just get here as soon as you can.  The contractions are too strong for me to drive.  I need you to take me."

No problem. Right?  Wrong!  My daughter lives three hours away.  After gaining her promise to call an ambulance if things got too close, I hit the road.

When I say I hit the road, you have to realize that it was Friday, July 1, the first day of the Independence Day weekend.  Highway patrol lurked in hidden spots along I-85 ready to nab drivers stupid enough to speed on a holiday weekend.

My body strained to fly, but I squashed that urge for the first two hours.  Once I hit Atlanta, I floored it, weaving in and out of traffic like a crazed race car driver.

4th of July holiday traffic clogged the six lanes ignoring my hazard lights, horn blowing, and flashing headlights.  I swerved into the far left lane only to get stuck behind a little old lady driving a Chrysler 3000 well below the speed limit.  I honked and flashed and beeped to no avail.  The drivers in the lane to my right flew by, unwilling to make way.  When I finally did get over, I ended up behind another Chrysler 3000.  What's the deal Atlanta grannies?  Drive 50 mph in the right lane, or better yet, get off the interstate.

After a quick stop to pick up the baby's father, the trip went a little better. We approached the exit stuck in the far left lane. He hung out the window flagging people aside.  This is the part that really terrifies me when I think about it.  I have no idea how I got to the exit ramp.  None of the cars would let us over, and I know I overshot the exit, but I got over somehow.  I'm pretty sure I blacked out during that part.

After running several red lights, we reached the house.  My daughter's partner scooped her up and carried her to the car. I grabbed my four-year-old granddaughter and her car seat.

My car screeched up to the Labor and Delivery entrance at 12:55pm.  My grandson, Amari, entered the world just 32 minutes later!

So, if you happened to have spotted a crazy lady racing a white mini-van like a deranged soccer mom on Friday, July 1, I make no apologies, just the admonishment that you don't mess with this grandmother!    


Hurrah! I can now comment on this blog post. I changed to Mozilla, and now I can comment. So if you tried to comment and couldn't, try a different browser than Internet Explorer.
Wouldnt calling a taxi for them have been easier? :) love little baby Amari!! Cant wait to meet him!
Wayne G. said…
I believe two congratulations are in order: One for the safe arrival of your new Grandson in this world and two, for your safe arrival in Atlanta.
I use Mozilla and couldn't comment yesterday, but today it's working. Whatever!

So glad the baby finally came, and everything is good. He's a beauty, isn't he? I bet Victoria is excited to be a big sister. (I typed "brother" and had to go back and fix it. Can you say stress?)

Congratulations Babbie!
Terri, Long story. This is the SHORTENED version, but the cab suggestion did come up. She, also, thought she had more time...
Congratulations! Your heart must have been racing as fast as your car!

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