I thought my life was ending on that highway. My palms were slick against the steering wheel, my breath tight, my vision narrowing until the world shrank to a single fear: If I’m late, I could lose my daughter. Every second felt like a verdict. Every mile of backed-up cars felt like another door closing. By the time the wall of motorcycles appeared ahead of me — engines roaring, lights flashing, refusing to move — my panic hardened into fury. I imagined reckless bikers intentionally blocking the road, oblivious to the fact that someone behind them was silently falling apart. Continue reading…
