Loyal
I'm putting this in the Jokes spot because its not bible....I hope its in the right place...Really! You look like you need a laugh. 
It was a time when I, with a few friends, would travel to a distant town or city just for a cup of coffee. We loved the drive. We loved driving. One night in spring, when I was about nineteen years old it was like that. It was time for a drive. After work, Skip, Jon and I climbed into an ugly old black and yellow taxi Jon had bought, and took off for Whitecourt, a lumber town about one hundred forty miles away. The sky was crystal and the weather was mild as we sped along highway forty three. The countryside was all lodge pole pine and muskeg. It was undeveloped and wild country back then, and the highway was quiet at night except for the occasional big rig or late traveler. There was a car a few hundred yards
in front of us and we were oozing forward to pass it, when there was a flash of movement in the headlights of the other car. We slowed down quickly because often moose or deer would jump out in front of vehicles and end up causing accidents or damage to vehicles and killing themselves in the process. In this case though, it was a smaller animal that the car ahead hit. When the driver kept on going we stopped to see what he had knocked over and discovered it was a lynx. Luckily for the lynx though it wasn’t dead. As far as we could see it wasn’t even injured. We talked about what we should do with it and, I don’t know why, but we decided to put it into an old suitcase that was in the trunk of the car. We did this and started out again for Whitecourt. We had not driven very far when a carload of ‘hippie’ types passed us. Yelling out the windows of their vehicle and just generally being hippies. Well, being true blue men, we decided to have a good time. We took off after the hippie car and passed it speeding on ahead. When the car was out of sight behind us a few miles we stopped and put the suitcase on the shoulder of the road. Then we found a place to hide the car. It wasn’t long at all before the carload of hippies screeched to a halt and one of them jumped out and grabbed the suitcase. He threw it into the car, followed it in, and they took off. We followed sedately after them. I guess the lynx was awake by this time because the hippies hadn’t traveled a half mile before they dragged their car to a stop, and four doors flew open and seven hippie types flew out of the car followed by one angry lynx.
It was a time when I, with a few friends, would travel to a distant town or city just for a cup of coffee. We loved the drive. We loved driving. One night in spring, when I was about nineteen years old it was like that. It was time for a drive. After work, Skip, Jon and I climbed into an ugly old black and yellow taxi Jon had bought, and took off for Whitecourt, a lumber town about one hundred forty miles away. The sky was crystal and the weather was mild as we sped along highway forty three. The countryside was all lodge pole pine and muskeg. It was undeveloped and wild country back then, and the highway was quiet at night except for the occasional big rig or late traveler. There was a car a few hundred yards
in front of us and we were oozing forward to pass it, when there was a flash of movement in the headlights of the other car. We slowed down quickly because often moose or deer would jump out in front of vehicles and end up causing accidents or damage to vehicles and killing themselves in the process. In this case though, it was a smaller animal that the car ahead hit. When the driver kept on going we stopped to see what he had knocked over and discovered it was a lynx. Luckily for the lynx though it wasn’t dead. As far as we could see it wasn’t even injured. We talked about what we should do with it and, I don’t know why, but we decided to put it into an old suitcase that was in the trunk of the car. We did this and started out again for Whitecourt. We had not driven very far when a carload of ‘hippie’ types passed us. Yelling out the windows of their vehicle and just generally being hippies. Well, being true blue men, we decided to have a good time. We took off after the hippie car and passed it speeding on ahead. When the car was out of sight behind us a few miles we stopped and put the suitcase on the shoulder of the road. Then we found a place to hide the car. It wasn’t long at all before the carload of hippies screeched to a halt and one of them jumped out and grabbed the suitcase. He threw it into the car, followed it in, and they took off. We followed sedately after them. I guess the lynx was awake by this time because the hippies hadn’t traveled a half mile before they dragged their car to a stop, and four doors flew open and seven hippie types flew out of the car followed by one angry lynx.
