Driving to work today.

Picture yourself on a dark desert highway.

That's not where I was, but it's more scenic.

I'm following one of those Fords. You know the ones. Driven by old people. I think it was blue, but that doesnt matter.

He was going slow, as old people often do. I'm a much more calm driver than I used to be back in the days when I was always rushing somewhere, back when I was young and had all the time in the world. Now that my days are running out, I take my time. It doesn't make sense, but that's how people are. It also doesn't make sense because I'm not that old. But I am still taking my time.

But of course, he was going slow. I was following behind him. Not too closely, because in my old age I like to keep open the possibility that I could have a heart attack at any time, thus slowing my reaction time when my torso falls against the steering wheel, beeps the horn really loudly and threatens to swerve me off the road or, worse, into another car. So I like to keep a safe distance.

However, I was late for work, as I often am during these lazy crazy days when I take my time going everywhere. So as we approached the traffic light at which I would turn left and, I could see, he would keep going straight, I gunned it.

Now, I only "gunned" it (your words) in order to try to make the light. It's a long light and I was late for work and I felt that if I could get to the light before it turned red, I had the chance of being able to make a left and save some time. So I accelerated into the left turn lane, thusly passing Old man River and his blue Ford Escort as he rumbled slowly up the hill towards the place where he would die. I watched the light, hoping it would stay green.

Unfortunately by the time I got to the light, I had to then wait for an oncoming car to go through the light; I would then turn left behind him. Lo and behold here comes Gerry Atric up the hill behind me to the right, and he's honking his horn. I turn to see what he wants or, what whoever is honking his horn wants, because I haven't been keeping track and the last person I'm keeping my eye on is this guy. I look, and he waves at me.

He waves at me with a smile; the kind of wave that says "fuck you, pal, I would give you the finger but I'm too witty for that. I'm going to wave, instead."

As I watched him drive off into the sunset of his life, I thought to myself, now there is a guy who has a tendency to exaggerate the degree to which other people acknowledge his existence. I frankly could care less that he feels he put one over on me by passing me going 30 to my dead stop after I was able to accelerate to a light in a 100-ft passing lane past him in his zombie-like progression through town.

And so it goes. It was good to feel at peace as another driver privately seethed because, you have to admit, waving at someone even wittily is nothing like flipping them the bird.


- posted by seanmh @ 5:58 PM