Picking the Moral of the Story

The behavior of cellphone-talking, traffic-weaving, non-signaling blonde in the beige luxury car was virtually indistinguishable from any other obnoxious driver with whom I consistently find myself sharing the road. And despite some habits that any after-school children's show host would frown upon, she and I DID share the road. In fact, we were neighbors more often than not than during the 15 minutes after which I initially noticed her.

She flew by me right after the point where the posted speed limit took a nose-dive from 65 to 45. Considering that I was going 55 at the time, I can't say for certain that she had let up on the accelerator at all, although I would be willing to bet a round at the bar—*waves to The ListMaker*—that she had been going substantially faster than 65 prior to that point.

I saw the car seat handle sprouting up out of the center of the back seat when I caught up to her, and spotted the towheaded child on one side. Still, the woman was clearly deep in conversation with the party at the other end of the cellphone, and I wondered whether the baby was sleeping, and if not, if the other child was amusing, annoying, or ignoring the baby.

I wasn't in a cursing mood, being absorbed in my own exhaustion and unwillingness to drive to work at all, much less SPEED there. I noted what I saw in an absent-minded sort of way, although some annoyance clearly wormed its way into my dark soul despite my purported ennui, because when I happened—without trying—to pass the woman a mile or so down the road, I found myself smirking broadly. I thought, I really should pay more attention to the speed-demons who feel it necessary to cut in front of just ONE MORE car, so I could see for sure whether they are (as I've often suspected, or at least hoped!) more often than not unsuccessfully in getting THAT far ahead of those they seem so hell-bent on passing.

Of course, the logistics of such a study would be impossible, because unless you DO keep the driving villain in sight, how do you determine if they have reached their destination an appreciable time ahead of you, or if they have simply turned a different way? I pondered that for a bit, as well as my delight at the sight of a mini-van ahead of me refusing to let the beige-car chatty chick cut in front of it to make a certain popular turn. And of course I felt chastened by Fate—or some facsimile thereof—because there she was, ahead of me again, and so SOON after I'd been so smugly pleased to have passed her.

I switched CDs at the next light (okay, I did it WHILE MY CAR WAS IN MOTION, whatever ... it was slow enough that it COULD have been at a light) and frankly forgot about the woman, who I was sure had it all together and was probably taking her kids shopping in the nearest metropolis and had oodles of spare time and no need to pass me anyway. Screaming metal mayhem often has the happy effect on me of removing my obsessing mind from routine annoyances.

I did see her turn off ahead of me at one point, but I was working hard on shrieking in harmony with the beautiful chaos that IS my precious IN FLAMES (I do love their latest album, but we will talk about that another time, my dears). I drove on and I made my turns where I needed to, and even waved at the construction crew that smilingly directed me around their work area.

I almost didn't notice the beautifully-coiffed beige-car driver when I saw her again, waiting for ME to turn at the intersection one block from Corporate parking. And although I admit that I laughed evilly then, I stopped when I saw her turn into the daycare across the street. For all my assumptions were just that: ASSumptions—the evidence in my rear-view mirror showed just another working mom like me ... better dressed and more comfortably charioted, to be sure, but more alike than I would like to admit.

It was a warmly moral moment, I tell you, and I mean it. Although less due to the fact that I'd made erroneous assumptions—which I admittedly have been known to do—regarding the driver, and more because the tortoise DID beat the hare.

Yeah, well, I know which moral of the story I am going to focus on ... you do what you like. ;)