It was an El Camino.
I’m sorry if you own an El Camino. I’m not sorry that I just called your car an abomination, because it is. I am truly sorry THAT YOU OWN AN EL CAMINO. What were you thinking? Did you really believe that hideous excuse for a fake truck/car would be practical? Guess you found out otherwise, huh? Now you’re just stuck driving around a godawful ugly-ass car that only seats two, three people max and really doesn’t fit any more in the back than you could have stuck in the trunk of a normal, decent car, especially one in which the back of the back seat can flip forward to make more room. Next time I hope you’ll think things through a little better.
That being said, the driver of the Godawful El Camino, which incidentally could seriously have used a paint job – I mean the El Camino, not the driver – pulled out about five cars ahead of me and then drove at a steady clip, approximately 20 miles an hour in a 45 mile an hour zone.
I was not terribly pleased.
I did have an appointment to make, after all. Never mind that I am often late to appointments with Neesa and when I’m not, she is, and in fact, today when I reached her house, she was on the phone, but that was fine because I went to her treatment room and sat on the carpet and examined the bruise on my foot that had resulted from a nearly-full bottle of vinegar falling on it in the shower this morning. Thanks to an immediate dose of sublingual arnica and another dose a couple of hours later, the bruise was almost gone. Arnica rocks. But that is not what this story is about.
So I’m driving along and I’m thinking that the driver of the El Camino had made not one but at least two bad choices in his life, when the driver behind me laid on his horn. Well, that was irritating. I looked up in my rear view mirror and he was glaring at me, so I kind of glared back, even though I knew he probably couldn’t see me doing it.
And then I thought about how useless it was to be annoyed right then. I decided it would be more fun to pretend I was in a parade. I turned slowly to my left and to my right, while of course keeping my eyes on the road, because I didn’t want to die playing this little game, and I alternated waving my left and right hands to the imaginary people lining the road watching the parade go by.
Elbow, elbow, wrist-wrist-wrist. Elbow, elbow, wrist-wrist-wrist.
I was having a grand time, and I glanced again in my rearview mirror to see the man behind me DOING THE SAME THING, which was nothing short of awesome. I felt a surge of pride at having sent out fun energy to another person I didn’t even know and helping him not be mad even at an El Camino driver.
After a little while, the El Camino turned onto a road that veered off to the right, and slowed down even more. The driver might have just gotten off the main road to let all of the cars behind him go by, but I’m not sure. When I passed him, he looked kind of sheepish. I wondered if drivers in front of me were also doing the elbow, elbow, wrist-wrist-wrist and if he realized we were having a parade just because of him. Probably not.
I suppose someone who gives other people a reason to have a parade deserves a little grace, even if he does drive an El Camino. There’s probably a lesson in that.