an open letter

Dear Lady in the Blue Celica:

Today, you and I shared a brief encounter that was no doubt significant. As we both made our southbound commute down Highway 400-19 at approximately 7:13 this morning, our paths crossed in a dramatic way.

You first saw me approaching in my silver Dodge Durango coming up into your rearview mirror at a rate that I can only assume you found to be alarming. I make this assumption based upon the size of your bulging eyeballs which were easily discernable in the reflection of your mirror. The gesticulation of your arms surprisingly did not distract from your buggy eyes, but rather drew attention to them, a bit like Marty Feldman from Young Frankenstein. While it is possible that I may have been slightly exceeding the speed limit, it is even more plausible that you were operating your vehicle in the left land well under the speed minimum, unless of course, your vehicle was a 1906 horse-drawn carriage.

Rest assured, when I repeatedly and incessantly pushed on the horn, it was not to alarm you further, or to possibly compel you to direct your vehicle into the rightmost lane along with the other rickshaws, antique tandem bicycles, and Segways merging into the flow of traffic. I was merely introducing myself to you by giving an auditory Morse presentation of my license plate, which may have been difficult for you to read, given that it would have been backwards due to the reverse nature of mirrored reflections. I thought this might serve as a useful introduction in case we were to ever meet again in a similar situation. Also, the repeated flashing of my headlights were to by no means be construed as a further effort to force your acquiescence. I happened to be listening to my favorite Outkast song at the moment on near-deafening decibels, and the clickety-clack of the headlight dimmer just accentuated the multisensory experience of rapping along with the boys.

As I swerved by on the right, I happened to look over into the cabin of your sky blue minicruiser. Our eyes met for just a moment, but I've seen that look often enough during the daily commute to recognize pure, unbridled terror when I observe it. I openly acknowledge the possibility that your fear was indeed induced by the sight of me, head tilted back, askew as I cupped a quickly disintegrating sloppy, cheesy, saucy breakfast burrito with both hands, while trapping my cell phone between left ear and shoulder. I just want to comfort you with the knowledge that I was actually in relatively full command of my vehicle, driving with my left knee, steering by virtue of the rotational axis point which was the ball of my left foot. I have learned that in these scenarios, the maneuverability of the landcraft increases proportionately with the acceleration of the vehicle, which explains why I vaulted past you so rapidly.

I want to close by offering my gratitude for your thoughtfulness as I promptly and decisively returned to the left lane immediately in front of you. It was tremendously courteous of you to slam on your brakes to provide me with an adequately safe berth between our autos. You quickly became indistinguishible from the mass of other cars, trucks, and SUVs filling the highway as I continued down the road. I just want to return the compliment that you offered by enthusiastically waving the digitary gesture out from the driver's side window, it didn't go unnoticed:

I think "You're #1!" too!

Have a great day and remember to drive safely!