For a Friday, today was pretty lackluster.
On the way home, I took the back road again, but this time there was a surprising amount of traffic. As I drew near to the frontage road that would eventually dump me onto the Interstate, I was nearly hit by a car exiting a highway eatery/gas stop. The driver – a young woman – reacted as if she’d only seen my car at the last-minute, despite the fact that the area is pretty flat. I guess I just materialized and she wasn’t prepared.
Well, as I continued on to the Interstate, she was right there behind me – tight as could be. I was flooring the accelerator, but my car is not one of those high-end, 0-to-60-in-two-blinks-of-an-eye kind of cars; it’s going to take me at least thirty seconds, and even then, only if the road is flat or I’m on a slope. Four-cylinders are not made for speed demons.
We get onto the Interstate proper, and as expected, she signals and moves to the center lane, while I remained in the right-hand (slow) lane. I was in no rush, and I knew I hadn’t hit the posted speed limit yet, so – I was good where I was. As she sped past me, I saw the problem: She was texting. That explained our near-collision, her tail-gating, and her general inattentiveness. She whizzed past me and that was that.
The worst part was that she wasn’t even trying to hide it. She was reading texts in a zone where the posted limit is 70 mph, but the average tends to be c. 75 mph, and there she is holding her phone out for all to see.
If you think that the story ends here, you’re wrong. You see, on the side of the road a mile ahead was a minimally marked county sheriff’s car. As the woman drove on with one eye on the road and the other on her phone, the deputy spotted her, darted out after her, turned on those reds-and-blues, and pulled her over.
I really wish I could have heard her explain herself.