I was heading back home from Morrie’s Imports in the claustrophobic Pontiac loaner car, after leaving the Saab, once again, for another repair job. I signaled my turnoff toward the Dunwoody-Hennepin exit when I spotted the mother mallard duck and her ten ducklings. They were just going about their business, making their way across the busy highway. She was swiftly leading them past the idling car in the next lane toward the next speeding lane of cars and the median, to get to the other side of the highway. I looked around and saw that everyone had their hands in the air, wondering what she was going to do once she realized that the little ones wouldn’t be able to hoist themselves up over the concrete median to the other two speeding lanes. To my horror, I visualized squashed little ducklings all over the buzzing road. I exited the highway, realizing that their fate was out of my control. Later, at the end of the workday, I picked up the car, now purring like a kitten. I conned myself into thinking that this was the end of all of the major repairs. As I approached the turnoff toward the Dunwoody-Hennepin exit, I slowed down to see if there was any evidence of duck carnage. I was pleased to see clean, black asphalt, knowing that someone cared enough to send the mother duck and her ducklings to safety.