So I’m driving the son somewhere in our nearby big city, and I hear a car honk. At the light, a dentally challenged, ball cap wearing, extra from Deliverance gets out of his car and begins screaming at the suit and tie wearing man in the car behind him. I leave the actual fighting words used to your imagination, but he used all the ones that their ethnic and class differences allowed for and proved that it is possible to enunciate an F sound without front teeth.
The gist of his rage is that he was cut off. By the car behind him. My son pointed out, in horrified fascination that it’s really hard to be cut off by a car that is now behind you. I was swirling with the rage and sick fear of this-would he draw a gun? Would the man in the suit get out of his car? I could call 911, but it takes forever and we all know that it’s not real 911, it’s cell phone 911. I look at the cell phone, and it comes to me. Take pictures. I lower the passenger window and begin to click away. The perp turns at that familiar sound, gets in his car, and goes away. MMhhmmm, nice to look like I actually did something to the kid, at least. I’m going to try and remember this, as it at least felt like I was doing something, even if I didn’t.