This one time, prolly about eight or so years ago, I was driving through Wisconsin.  I was on the long trek on I-94 that bisects the state diagonally, and around Wisconsin Dells, I was cruisin’ right along in the left lane.  I was passing a string of cars that were behind a lumber truck, and all of a sudden, one of the cars shot out in front of me.  I was a bit cheesed off, but then I looked over and realized that the lumber truck, which was full of square bundles of cut 2x4s, had a couple of loose bundles and 2x4s were SHOOTING OFF THE BACK OF THE TRUCK.  I realized what was going on, saw a SUV in the right lane swerve, and slowed down and motioned for him to get in front.  We both hit the gas and got the hell out of there.  I got in front of the lumber truck in the right lane and pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

The 911 operator transfered me to State Patrol, and I told the dispatcher what was going on.  I was pretty freaky-outy at this point, but although I didn’t have the truck’s license plate, I was able to give her the mile marker and that we were westbound.  Needless to say, it wasn’t hard for them to find the “big blue lumber truck dropping 2x4s.”  I stayed a safe distance in front of the truck, and about 90 seconds after I hung up, a State Patrol car came FUCKING FLYING down the middle of the two westbound lanes.  It had its lights and sirens and maybe even extra sirens going, and it flew around in front of the lumber truck and forced the guy off the road.  It was some awesome cop shit.

I got off at the next exit and parked.  It took a few cigarettes for me to stop shaking enough to get back on the road.