Welcome to Chicago, Mother Fucker − December, 1986

My mom has told me this story about a hundred times, and I still don't know where I was in all this. I probably wasn't anywhere (the date is an estimate).

When she was about twenty my mother lived in Chicago with her first husband. Coming home from one night she found herself on the end of a very long line of traffic, of which, at one point, sank beneath an overpass before it reappeared on the other side. As she drew closer to the overpass she noticed that the cars in front of her seemed to be driving over something. A speed bump, maybe, she thought. To her horror, she realized that it was no speed bump. Someone had been murdered, declothed, and thrown from the highway above, and becuase of the nature of the particular street that my mother was on, there was no way around it. So when her turn came, she closed her eyes and pretended not to feel the body beneath her tires.

Posted on April 9, 2007. and has been viewed 950 times.