I forgot to mention yesterday that I nearly became road pizza on my morning commute.
I’m toodling along at about 70mph in the carpool lane on northbound 280. Suddenly, a guy in a pickup to my right decides that, by god, he’s going to change lanes. No blinker, no warning signs (slowing down or speeding up, head movement, etc). Just dived on over.
I was on the horn and braking hard before my brain even caught up to what was happening. Between braking and swerving onto the shoulder, I managed to avoid eating his bumper by about two feet. Fortunately, the guy driving the huge truck behind me was also paying attention, and I didn’t end up as a hood ornament on the truck, either.
Needless to say, I gave the pickup driver the good ol’ one-finger salute. We continued on. A few seconds later, he looked in his rear-view mirror and did that “oh, silly me! my bad!” wave. Another middle-finger salute from me.
About this time, the huge truck behind me pulled into the lane to our right and gunned it past me. He pulled up right next to the pickup and rolled down his window. A huge, hairy, burly arm unfurled from the driver’s side window until he was practically touching the pickup’s passenger side door, and POP! Up came the middle finger. I burst out laughing.
When it was time for me to exit the highway, I moved to the right and paced the pickup for a second. The driver looked over at me — middle-aged guy, glasses, skinny little head with shaved reddish hair — and gave me a competely vacant expression. He did a little hand-wave and shrugged. So, naturally, I flipped him off again.
I hate almost getting killed by inattentive self-important drivers.
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