So, yesterday afternoon we’re winding down the road (literally!) from Sedona …I’m thankful Hubby’s taken the wheel. Unlike me, he has no qualms navigating the mountain grades, traveling in the “big boy” lane at 80 mph. Riding shotgun, I was practically lulled into oblivion as a result of a gluttonous lunch in Jerome (think, the Hamburger that ate Cleveland!).
Then, a horn. (A.Big.Horn.) Glancing to my right, I’m treated to a jerking, protruding finger…. a face contorted by rage, clearly enunciating obscenities our direction. Nope, it’s no testosterone-laden youth in a muscle car; rather a elderly “gentleman” wearing a ridiculous “Gilligan’s” hat…. staying abreast, then maneuvering his circa-80’s Cadillac as if to intimidate, before barreling on ahead, in and out of traffic. ‘Twas a matter of seconds, probably. I could only gape stupidly. By the time, DH figured out what had happened, my outrage had surfaced; decidedly UNChristian-like notions bubbled to the surface.
Sure enough. Nearing the city limits, traffic backed to a standstill and I spotted our “friend”, similarly stalled. What to do? Smile, blow an air kiss? Reason prevailed. As we passed, I forced my gaze straight ahead. Still, I’d sure like to know... had he felt better, more empowered for his hystrionics?