All The Lights In Riverport
Language: en
The holiday gridlock on Interstate 80 was a crawling serpent of red taillights and exhaust fumes, stretching for miles into the freezing dusk. Everyone was desperate to get home for Christmas Eve. I was thirty miles outside Riverport, creeping along in the right lane, when an engine diagnostic light flickered amber across my dashboard. With the traffic snarled to an absolute halt, I signaled and eased the car over onto the paved shoulder to inspect the sensor. In normal circumstances, the shoulder was strictly reserved for highway patrol, emergency response, and breakdowns. Then came the…