it was a dark and stormy night (kinda sorta)

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, not really, but that’s how Snoopy says the best novels start. And while this post won’t be quite as long as a novel, it may qualify for novella status before I finish.

It was a dark and stormy dawn. I departed just after 6:30 am, fighting rain from the minute I left my drive. The mall at Town East had opened at 7 am and by the time I got to that section of 635 the backup was already half a mile long.

Now, knowing from past experience that the worst drivers are also the last ones to shop, I had armed myself, both literally and figuratively, with appropriate-to-the-occasion-protection, just in case, along with energy bars and bottles of water. No, I wasn’t expecting any trouble, but ya never know; the last thing I wanted to think about was being stuck somewhere, miles from friends and family and anyone who could help (since Jim was at work and incommunicado).

Somewhere around Dalrock Road, a car behind me began speeding up and dropping back, speeding up almost to my tailgate and then dropping back several car lengths, weaving slightly from middle of the road to right shoulder. I started praying, “Lord, whoever this is behind me, they’re either sleepy or full of holiday cheer, please keep me out of harm’s way.” About a mile later, the car’s right turn signal came on. And stayed on. And, despite the many exit opportunities on that stretch of highway, the turn signal stayed on and the driver continued to follow me.

When I reached my exit, I purposely did NOT give a signal but at the last minute swooped from the highway onto the frontage road.  The car stayed behind me, continuing to repeat the speed-up-slow-down process, right turn signal still blinking merrily all the way. At my street, I had to slow down because it's sharp, and turned right. The car followed.  I'm beginning to remember that 18-wheeler movie with Dennis Weaver.

Traveling down that little narrow avenue, the blankety-blank car got into the left lane, sped up, and pulled even with me; I hit my brakes, hoping they'd just glide on by. But the strategy failed - the driver did not take that opportunity to pass and continue on without me being in front. N-o-o-o-o-o! They stopped, too. And began to back up. I floored the accelerator, shooting rooster tails behind me.

At my left turn I didn’t give a signal, made it a whole lot faster than I’d ever thought possible without two wheels leaving the wet pavement. Color me well and truly frightened. My nemesis TURNED THERE, TOO, and continued to follow.

I finally reached my destination, pulled crossways into Mike’s drive, put my foot on the brake but left my car in gear so the doors stayed locked, looked to my right and saw the car had pulled up RIGHT NEXT TO ME. By now my prayer had changed to “Lord don’t make me use drastic measures to get this person to leave me alone.”

But instead of reaching for my “little friend” I pulled out my phone. A woman got out of the car and wailed pitifully, “I’m lost.” I shook my head no and said, “I can’t help you” and speed-dialed the magic number. Woman said, “I need to find 190.” I yelled, “You need to go away from here!” Rebecca’s phone began to ring. The broad said again, “I’m lost!” I yelled, “I don’t care!” and just then Becca answered.

At her hello I yelled, “I’m out here in front of your house and there’s some crazy woman next to me” and then screamed, “COME OUTSIDE NOW!”

The obviously-to-me-deranged woman kept repeating, “I’m lost!”

And then things happened very rapidly, but to me it seemed slow motion. On my left I saw Mike come out the front door of the house and head in my direction; on my right the woman got back in her car, slammed the door, put the car in gear, and roared away, turning at the next available intersection. I put the truck in park, and opened my door. Mike asked if I was ok. “Uh, NO!” By then Becca was outside, too, barefoot, as I got out of the car and related the events of the past twenty minutes. (Was it ONLY 20?)

Mike watched in case the car came back around, but evidently seeing someone other than little 'ole gray-haired me was enough to convince the “lady” her presence was required elsewhere - post haste.

So now, Christmas presents delivered, seven hours later, I'm back at the ranch. And my most-often-stolen-make-and-model-vehicle-in-Texas is parked where it belongs.

I had stopped shaking as soon as I went into their lovely home, seeing the beautiful tree, lights shining cheerfully in the corner, feeling with gratitude the warmth of love and the hugs of family. But reliving the events as I started to write this post gave me the heebee jeebees all over again.

And now my prayer is, “Lord if I missed an opportunity to be kind, forgive me; but next time, please don’t make it so scary!”

p.s. I'm glad there are no more presents to buy, no more shopping to do  - - I think I'll just stay home until Christmas Day. When Jim will be with me.