“Give me the wheel, you jerk,” Janyce shoved Johnny’s drunken torso to the left, causing the jam-packed motor home to wobble.

“No way. I hate your driving,” he spat.

She kicked his foot off the gas pedal and tried to find the brake with her own. The motor home missed the guardrail by inches.

“You are too loaded, John. We’ll never make it home with you behind the wheel.”

Janyce grabbed the keys out of their slot. The RV uncontrollably coasted down the hill. Both noticed lights flashing in the rearview mirror.

“Let me see your license and insurance,” muttered the officer with pen and pad.

Janyce handed him both.

He looked at the two, her lodged in his lap, “Who was driving?”

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