My morning:
Hubby's jeep is busted so I drove him to work, which is a private school out in the country. On the way back, I ended up behind a handicapped driver in a beaten-up, red pickup. To be honest, old rusty pickups freak me out a little. I know it's crazy, but I worry that they're going to explode at any moment. Hit a pothole? BAM! Sharp turn? BAM! On that same train of thought, discarded cigarette butts terrify me as well. That is a fire waiting to happen. Old pickup driving over used cigarette? BAM!
Anyway, what freaked me out more was the erratic driver. It's a 45 MPH road and we're going between 30 and 50 MPH at any given point. This a really curvy road, mind you, and the 30's sometimes coincided with straightaways and 50's with turns. Ooh, it was worrisome. Even worse, all four of their tires would cross the double yellow line. Yes, the one in the middle. As a motorcycle rider, I know how dangerous that is, especially around curves, so I was praying not to encounter any other vehicles on the road. We didn't except for one other pickup.
We lost them once we got to town and I can't say I minded.
We lost them once we got to town and I can't say I minded.
