Terrified behind the Wheel

Yesterday I had a bunch of running around to do. The bank, the dentist, Dollar Store for greeting cards, home for shopping list, and then grocery shopping. Winco was stuffed to the brim, but I graciously let carts go in front of me, didn’t take corners too fast, chatted with the clerk as she checked out my massive order, giggled as people gaped at my super-full cart dragging me across the parking lot …

In short, I made the chores fun and enjoyed being in the moment. Counted my blessings like having money to put in the bank, having dental insurance, a fun car to drive, great kids to eat all that food, and so on.

Only three turns from home, I was stopped on a green light on a left turn yield. A car drove straight past me from the other direction as another made a right turn opposite me in their designated right turn lane. I had eggs in the car. This is important because everyone know you drive more cautiously when you have eggs in the car! Another car was just entering the right turn lane and I saw a decent-gap, so turned.

The guy laid on his horn, almost making the car in front of me get in an accident while it pulled over. I waved to them as I passed, signally I didn’t honk at them. It struck me that the red car behind me thought I had cut it off. I  had EGGS in the car! Uh-oh, I thought, but we weren’t close to an accident at all.

I’m the one you honk at because I’m too conservative at rush hour to take a spot in the traffic. I get made fun of for signaling on lonely driveways and in parking lots. I’ve never had a ticket. I HAD EGGS in the car!

So I make my next right turn, signaling and driving just as carefully as I normally do. The red car follows me. Wait, is he FOLLOWING me????!?!??! I didn’t make another turn for a while, so I couldn’t really tell. Then a right and quick left. Yep, still behind me. Now I’m hyperventilating. Freaking out. Having all the news stories run through my mind of road rage with sudden appearances of guns. I’m praying, “Lord, please keep me safe!”

Should I keep driving past our street? Lead him down the mountain? How long will he follow me? [Here’s where you can tell how out of my mind I was because this next part seemed logical then.] No, I decided, I have ice cream in the car. (with the eggs) I’ll just pull into the garage, stay in the car, until the garage door shuts, then call the police if he comes to the door.

I pull around the trees into our driveway and, miracle of miracles, Dave who lifts weights almost every day is cutting cardboard for the recycling with a box knife! I zoom in, brake, put my window down, and say in a shaky, shaky voice, “IthinktheguybehindmethoughtIcuthimoffandhe’sfollowedmeallthewayhomeandIthinkit’sroadrage!”

I cowered in the car while Dave, knife in hand, went to meet the car. The guy seemed pretty calm, told Dave he’d almost hit me when I cut him off, and that I needed to know I didn’t have the right of way. Dave told him that those roads are pretty tough to get around on when they are this busy, happens to him all the time, and that I was a safe driver with no tickets.

I wobbled out of the car, grab a few grocery sacks, and yelled, “I HAD EGGS IN THE CAR!” Ok, really I said, “I’m sorry if you thought it was too close but I felt like I had plenty of room.” Then I hid in the house until he left.

The fight-or-flight was so high in me that all I could do was wander around scattered-brain, hugging Dave, thanking him for being home with a knife, and berating myself for showing where I lived. Even if I did cut him off, his horn honk was enough of a warning. NEVER should he have followed me.

I’ve played it over and over in my head. I still think I had room. Maybe he looked down after he got in the lane, saw me when he looked up, and assumed there was less room because of the surprise. Maybe he thought I was a teenager in the car alone with my bangs and my sunglasses and wanted to good-heartedly make sure I knew the rules of the road. Maybe God was warning me to stay extra cautious and alert with all these big-city drivers. Maybe he had no socialization skills to know how UTTERLY TERRIFYING it is to be a lady in a car alone being followed by a strange man.

That’s my favorite theory. I play the whole thing out. He walks into the kitchen, tells his wife he was almost in an accident and followed the girl home to tell her how to drive. Then his wife says, “You did what??” and hits him repeatedly with a dish towel. “She probably had eggs in the car!”