Imagine you are driving along on a dark, stormy night.
Thick fog and blinding rain obscure every curve on the
narrow, winding road, high above the jagged rocks and raging sea. Something
catches your eye as the lightning flashes, and you stop your car and get out to
investigate. The bridge has been washed out. And where pavement once lay, a
bottomless chasm now vanishes into the night below.
You rush back to your car, pop open the trunk, and furiously
tear apart the contents, searching for your emergency flares. Racing 100 yards
back up the road you just came down, you light two of the flares, ready to warn
any unsuspecting traveler, of the imminent danger which lies unseen just ahead.
Soon a set of car lights pierce through the fog and are
coming straight at you. As you frantically wave the flares high above your head
and shout "stop!" The truck finally screeches to a halt on the wet
pavement, just inches from your feet. The driver jumps out and screams at you,
"What is your problem?" You immediately respond, "Sir, the storm
washed the bridge out just ahead. Please, I implore you, go no further, or you
will plunge to your death!"
The driver angrily responds, "You're crazy! That bridge
is solid steel! A perfect example of man's finest engineering. Nothing could
possibly ever destroy it. Now get out of my way you crazy fool, I have
somewhere I have to be!"
But no matter how much you plead with him to stay with you
in safety, he drives blindly on into the blackness of night…
—At The End of My Line
