When I first joined my National Guard unit, the leadership was impressed with my driving record. I had no accidents and no speeding tickets. So, when it came time for our yearly trip to the shooting range 60 miles away in Battle Creek, I was chosen to drive the lead Jeep. And, as the lead Jeep driver, I had the commanding officer as my passenger.

Now, the majority of the trip was through open country on the highway. And, I excelled at this. But, when we got into the city, I was not familiar with the rights of a convoy. And, since funeral processions have the right of way at intersections, I assumed that the same held true for military convoys. So, when the first traffic light turned red, I proceeded through the intersection.

Now, when the commanding officer determined that I was going the run the red light, he prepared to, well…., jump. Fortunately, the civilians at that intersection were not familiar with the rights of a convoy either and yielded the right of way. And so, we proceed through the city and ran every red light that we encountered.

Of course, by the time we reached our destination, the commander was lying down in the back in a fetal position, tightly clutching his helmet.

He didn’t ride with me on the return trip.