Two instances of brights.

November 6, 2009

And I’m on my way to direct my choir.  Don’t want to do it, but it’s my job and there we go – we do our jobs.

So it’s dark, damn you Daylight Savings, and it’s cold and rainy and altogether PNW-standard outside.  I’m driving Lizzie, who does quite well, and I’m listening to NPR and jamming along in the left lane.  I’ve gone a different way, because I have plenty of time and I want to hit up Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte treat because UGH I had a long week and a long day and I don’t. even. want. to. be. here.

I have a really pleasant and positive attitude, you see.  Just the thing to conduct a church choir.

Driving along, minding my own business, jamming forth toward the sturdy borough of Burien.  And smooth as glass, this truck swings in behind me.  Real close-like.  Round lights.  He’s right on my butt, but I’m like, whatevs, he wants to use my excellence to pass the other lane.

We’re jamming, we’re jamming.  We pass the cars in the other lane.  He’s on my butt.  This is annoying.  I have to stay in this lane because mere moments from now, the freeway ends and I turn left.  And?  He turns on his brights.

I’m surprised, to say the least.  Surprised enough to mutter, “What the fuck?” – but I choose to do exactly nothing.  Because there’s nothing to be done.  He keeps his brights on.  Moments later, I get into the right-hand left turn lane.  He gets into the left-hand left turn lane.  He turns off his brights.  We turn. I go to Starbucks.  He doesn’t.

————–

So I’m in the line at Starbucks, and I use my downtime in the drivethru to download the Nov. 4th NPR Fresh Air podcast with Terry Gross’ interview of Jane Lynch. (Excellent, by the way.  More on that later.) The wait is long, but not too long, and when I get to the window, I’m informed that the woman in front of me switched her order – decided she wanted decaf – and that my drink (double-tall nonfat one-and-a-half pump pumpkin spice latte, no whip)  is on the house, because of the wait.  I protest, she insists, I accept.

I drive away, listening to the non-Jane Lynch parts of the podcast. (Also excellent, but David Plouffe is just somehow not quite as compelling.  What? Don’t judge.)  I get back on the freeway for a short hop to the next exit.  A gigantic truck pulls into my lane.  His lights line up directly with my rear window, but he’s keeping an appropriate following distance, so no big deal.  We both veer to the right to come to a stop at the end of the exit.  I reach up to adjust my mirror so I’m not blinded.

But, this truck’s driver turns off his lights.

I am blown away.

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One Response to “Two instances of brights.”

  1. Molly Says:

    it’s nice to know that there’s an equal proportion of dickish truck drivers and nice truck drivers. 🙂


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