On a country ride in the 1960s, my father and I happened upon a rattlesnake crossing the road in what was absolutely the Middle of Nowhere. My father skillfully veered his winged, blue Chevrolet over that snake, keeping the world a safer place for both of us, and perhaps others, too.
Twenty years later, when we were driving to pick up firewood, I stunned him when I said, “This is where you ran over…
