“The car behind you?” The man asks. He raises his eyebrows and speaks with an edge of sarcasm.
Looking in my rear view mirror I see nothing but open road. “Well, you know,” I fumble, “the next car that drives up.”
I pull away from the tollbooth and turn to my husband, “So, he’s pocketing that money, right?”
On our drive to Chicago for the Thanksgiving holiday, we decide to pay for the person behind us at every tollbooth we pass. I can’t call our first attempt a success. Thank heaven for Chicago toll roads, right? We’ll get plenty of chances.
We’re closer to the city now and the traffic is heavy. “I’m feeling better about this one.” My husband is enjoying himself, too. “I had no idea this would be so fun!” It’s almost comical how excited we are. Some one zooms past us and cuts us off in his rush to be first in line. “Should’a waited!” we laugh.
We pull into the toll lane and hand the toll worker the money and a small white card with the blog address on it. “Just hand them the card when they try to pay,” I explain.
We move forward and watch the exchange. The driver attempts to hand the worker the money. The worker shakes his head and hands him the card. It worked!
“Hit the gas, Mom!” That’s F. from the back seat. He’s been sleeping for most of northern Indiana. We told the kids we want be far enough ahead so that the car can’t us. They’ll just have to wonder, who was that random car? I hit it.
Still on the Skyway, we pull into another tollbooth. The kids crane their necks to see who’s behind us. Money. Card. Gas. And, we’re off.
The late model Monte Carlo chases us for nearly a mile before pulling past on the driver’s side. He’s wildly waving the card and smiling. Success! The kids go crazy and want to know how far to the next tollbooth.