Not long ago I was backing out of my driveway. A friend of mine rode beside me as the tires began to roll for the first time that day. It is a long driveway that leads to a house tucked back in a culdesac. There is tall shrubbery hugging the length of the concrete, coming to a close and making a tight fit at the entrance. This usually results in careful driving with little haste. Visibility to the sidewalk and culdesac is limited. This day, everything seemed clear. However, I found myself in the middle of the culdesac, with the rear-end of a grey truck in reverse, staring down my back bumper. Close call. Seems we both had somewhere to be, at the same time. Our cars pull away from each other and circle a path outward to the exit like synchronized swimmers. The truck stops at the neck of the culdesac. For a brief moment, we thought there might be some sort of showdown. A dirty glare. A gnashing of teeth. A showing of fingers. The moment passed and the truck proceeded out of the subdivision, while I cautiously followed. Of course, I left ample space at the stop sign in case the bastard tried to block me in for Round 2. I wouldn't let that happen, my three-thousand pound weapon could not be neutralized.
The truck turned left, and I followed. Hoping to end the embarrassing confrontation, I drove slowly so it could be a passed cloud on an otherwise beautiful day. But you can only drive so slow, and the truck seemed intent on not losing us in his rear view. My gas tank was empty, and we were on our way to the gas station ahead on the left. The truck was in the right lane, proceeding through a stoplight, as we pulled off the road. I could finally put this episode behind me.
I have a bad habit of not filling up until my gas light is on. Surely, I am not the only one that does this. As I pumped gas, I listened to the soothing sounds of three car stereos playing different songs at the same time. The bass became one unbroken line of ear-bleeding noise. It was around lunchtime, so the place was packed. I was entertained by two sheriff patrol cars, too many worktrucks with matching trailers filled with various outdoor equipment, kids that should be in school, and I looked up and saw the grey truck pulling in for gas right next to me. Damn! It had been at least 5 minutes since I pulled up to this gas pump. Where had this guy been? This is not the kind of intersection someone goes through, only to turn around and end up buying gas next to someone that almost rear-ended you. The 'coincidence' was maddening.
I quickly completed my transaction and left that gas station. If the truck followed us, it would become a battle of fuel efficiency. I would win that battle. We made our way to the movie theater where we had an appointment with cheap entertainment in exchange for a small fortune. We arrived to an empty parking lot, characteristic of an early afternoon movie theater. My friend advised me to easily back into my parking space in an empty parking lot. I refused on principle!
Two hours later we emerged from that megaplex of soft drinks, snacks, advertising, empty hallways, and sticky floors. More cars in the parking lot now. We discussed the movie and weather just before we dumbfoundedly looked at the grey truck parked next to us in the once-empty lot. We realized that this truck may not be driven by mere man. But behind its' limo-tinted windows lie some unspeakable evil. A truck driven by an unknown darkness that cannot forgive a careless driver on a pretty day. It was hunting us down, chiseling away at our nerves, and would not give up until we were served our comeuppance.
In a stroke of good fortune, that was the last of the grey truck that day. It is possible, or highly likely, that it did not see the movie that we saw. If it had, I, at least, would see this obsessed truck again until it had purged my existence. But it has been days, and I can only assume that it saw The Pursuit of Happyness instead.
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