To the editor:
While I was driving on a very lonely road, lost, and getting a little nervous, my car suddenly lost power and rolled to a stop miles deep in a pitch black forest.
As I sat in the car staring into all that eerie desolation, the parking lights begin to dim, and I figured that maybe I should try hiking somewhere for help. But after taking just a few steps down the road, I heard, seemingly in the not so far distance, a coyote howling, or maybe even a wolf, and quickly retreated back into at least some small resemblance of security.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, three well-meaning rescuers, I’m sure, stopped alongside my broken-down car.
The first to stop was a patrol car with its strobe lights radiating through the woodland in familiar blue and red flashes. The second good Samaritan’s car wore a rear number plate that read, “Clergy.”
Lastly, looking over at the third car’s side window, I was just able to make out a National Rifle Association emblem. This was the rescuer that I was most happy to see.
Obviously, a fictional, although not an impossible, tale that has been told before in one form or another, by citizens such as myself, who over time, have come to this very same opinion .