I was puttering along at 50 mph in a 45 mph zone on the outer road, when SUDDENLY out of nowhere (actually out of a business access road past the fairgrounds) came a white van. Not a white raper van, distinguished by The Pony for me on several occasions. But a white panel van from a business. I could not read the business name in T-Hoe's rearview mirror.
Anyhoo...this van virtually attached itself to T-Hoe's bumper for a couple of miles. Even when I turned to go into Bill-Paying Town proper, past the steakhouse to the light. As if it was carrying a fresh organ from a dead person, ready for transplant. I knew that there was no organ in that van, though. Unless, perhaps, you consider the driver to be acting like a certain organ. I knew that, because when I pulled up at the red light with my right blinker on to head over to the hospital complex...that white van whooshed past me on the left, to sit in the left turn lane.
That was when I saw that it was a van with a full side emblazoned with the Carpet One logo. Heh, heh. Might as well tattoo the 1-800-COMPLAIN-ABOUT-MY-DRIVING number in reverse on that driver's forehead, for folks to see in their rearview mirror while he's tailgating.
Who knew there was such a thing as a carpet emergency? The owners of that business might like to know how their driver is doing. Do you think?
I'm not the one to call and complain. I'm not a confrontational person, you know. But one of these days, that organ behind the wheel is gonna get what's coming to him.
Tomorrow, I might tell you about the doorman at The Devil's Playground. Or the stalker on the hospital parking lot. Or maybe not. We'll see what develops.