It’s a balmy 23 degrees outside. I say balmy because the temperature at the domicile I was at this morning was a brisk -6 (plus windchill factor). It’s a challenge to get one’s car warmed up and scraped off when one’s fingers and toes are strenuously objecting!
An interesting experience over the weekend. Whilst driving Saturday night, it began to lightly precipitate—somewhere in that icy yuk between ice and sleet–a moron of a truck driver decided to start playing chicken with me…at 80 mph. Dark, rainy, a little slippery–and if I slow down I’m going to get hit. Fabulous!! Changing lanes wasn’t effectual, neither was speeding up. Every half mile–flashing his brights in my back window (nope–no killer in the back seat) –and getting right up on my bumper. I drive a zippy Pontiac but seriously am no match for an 18 wheeler.
There were some serious prayers for a vigilant patrol officer to pull me over for going so fast. None were in sight though. Finally I decided to call for help. I wasn’t sure where the next exit was and someone on the other end of the phone had to be able to help. I was just about to press 911 and there it was–a sign for the state’s help line! A 1-800 number that connected me to a very nice young man who could tell me where the next exit was and could (more calmly than I could) contact the police en route. At this point the trucker decided that I wasn’t going to be any more fun (apparently–perhaps he noticed the sign too?) and went around me, providing me with a nice view of his license plate.
The helpful young man got me off the interstate to a gas station where I could get a cup of coffee and a lower heart rate and passed my description of the truck to the officers of the next large city–who I can only hope were able to stop him.
Perfect information and help, just when I needed it. I think I’ll put that help number in my cell phone for future trips! Other than that…it was a delightful weekend!