Interstate
“I didn’t see the car till just before this second, nod to him, eyes back on the road, car he’s in stays beside ours maybe four-five feet away; maybe six. “Yes,” I think, “what?” looking at him. “You’re awfully close, any reason to be? No answer. Wouldn’t think so. Just the look, the straight stare, oh you’re a toughie, bet your kids are scared shit of ya,” and look front and steer the car closer to the right lane line. Few seconds later I feel—sense—he’s doing something with his hand, motioning..., or waving something and maybe even from outside and I look over and car he’s in has moved over to almost cross the lane into mine and his window’s down and he’s pointing out of it at me and has this smirk or sneer or I don’t know what, not the noncommittal plain know-nothing to even dopey look from before trying to be hard but some smart-ass scorning sarcastic smile if I want to say it in a mouthful, and I think “Why, what’s with him, did I do something with my driving he didn’t like and for all I know might have, or he thought so, endangered their car for a moment or maybe the driver thought this and told him to let me know for he’s closer?”MoreLess
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