Kevin was frustrated. The dilapidated RV in front of him apparently hadn’t seen maintenance in over a decade and would occasionally belch a blot of smoke from its worn exhaust pipe. The other drivers on the freeway, ironically, had him blocked in behind the thing. All he could do was whisper to himself, “Please don’t take exit 437”.

It did. The RV shuddered and nearly tipped as it started up the off-ramp. Kevin slammed his fist on the steering wheel; just his luck. He considered leaning on the horn to make it go faster, but that wasn’t likely to work with an RV driver. In fact it would probably slow the guy down.

Somewhere along Range Road 44 the RV threw a rock which put a huge star in his windshield right on the driver’s side. Now on top of following this slowpoke he could barely see at all. That was it: the final straw. He would have to give this old geezer a piece of his mind.

When the RV pulled into a rest area he followed it. He pulled to a stop behind the RV and stormed out of his car. As he approached, the side door opened and a border collie jumped down. It was followed almost immediately by a couple of yorkies and a pomeranian. A German Shepherd looked at him and barked, but continued out. Over several minutes, Keven watched as three dozen dogs of different breeds exited the RV. The last was an old Saint Bernard that turned and carefully nosed the door closed, then headed off into the woods after the others.

Kevin whipped the door open. Time to confront the driver. But there was nobody there to confront. He searched the vehicle end to end; there was no trace of any people. Even the driver’s seat had nothing but shaggy dog hair on it, and the steering wheel had teeth marks and looked like it had been drooled on.

Kevin scratched his head and went back to his car. As he pulled away he decided to tell the insurance company that the rock had come off the tire of a semi.