Made it again...

I realized that I had grown up in a sheltered time whenever I spent time with my grandfather in Edmond, Oklahoma.  Even though I had been driving for years, he would insist on driving to town.  We would come to Interstate 35 which had not yet been equipped with on ramps and overpasses, so my grandfather would simply have to cross the six lanes of high speed traffic in his sometimes reliable car.  Sitting in the back seat I kept a 360-degree watch on the traffic closing in on us, honking at us, sometimes changing lanes to avoid us, and frequently communicating with us by hand signal.  After reaching the other side of the interstate, my grandfather’s wife (his last out of I'm not sure how many) would turn calmly to him and say, “Made it again Dad,” and he replied in an equally nonchalant voice, “Made it again,” and completed his journey.