Val Emerges Briefly, To School Society, Then Returns to Her Lair

I only make two trips to town, on Mondays and Thursdays. You’d think they would be fairly without incident, since we ARE on a Stay-At-Home-Down suggestion. But no. I’m in more danger on the county roads than if I was being held captive by disgruntled septuagenarian infecteds at a nursing home in Washington state!

Monday, I was tooling along our county blacktop road in T-Hoe, at about 45 mph, giddy with excitement for my outing. I rolled down the hill past the Motel Baron's rental house, past the Motel Baron's rich-house driveway, past the house where my mom hit their dog with her TrailBlazer. I was in front of that fancy house where the Great Pyrenees used to chase cars. I saw a red pickup truck, not a Ford, flying down the gravel road beside that house.

You know how you can estimate where you’re going to meet an oncoming car? Surely everyone has that skill. Like when I’m approaching the low water bridge, or that bridge on the way to my bank, with the concrete sides. I just look at a car and instantly know at what point I’ll meet it, on the bridge or not, if I don’t change speed.

I knew this red truck was going to slam into T-Hoe’s driver’s door if we both continued at the same rate. I had the right-of-way, you know. But that truck kept barreling down that gravel road. It looked like it wasn’t going to stop! I hit the brakes (one of the few things that still works well on T-Hoe). FINALLY that red pickup locked up its brakes, and SLID ABOUT 10 FEET ON THE GRAVEL, only stopping when the front tires hit the blacktop! T-Hoe was about 20 feet from the aborted collision site at that time. Good thing I’d hit the brakes!

As I rolled by at my greatly-reduced speed, I turned to stare at the blond gal between 18-39 who sat behind the wheel. My mouth might have had a mind of its own, and said a few unkind words through the glass. I couldn’t control it. My adrenaline was pumping.

The red pickup pulled out on the blacktop road and followed me, catching up just past the sharp curve. Oh, you wanna play THAT game, Blondie? As I waited at the stop sign to pull out onto the lettered county highway, Blondie on my bumper, I held up my new used iPhone 8. Little did SHE know that I couldn’t take her picture, due to its mercurial functioning. Just the sight, though, and the thought that she’d been DOCUMENTED, made her linger quite a while before following me onto that highway.

I was way over the bridge, halfway up the next hill when she pulled out. She kept way back, as I drove the legal 55 mph into town. She lucked out at the Save A Lot junction, when two cars pulled out between us. Unlucky for Blondie, they took another route between the mushroom factory and the funeral home. She was holding her distance when I made my turn for the dead mouse smelling post office. She kept on going uptown. Guess I showed HER!

Don't be acting the fool, people! Stay-At-Home-Down be darned, we must remain civil, and refrain from broadsiding innocent Vals in their 12-year-old Tahoes.