I was driving home from town the other night. Nice night, warm. Quiet. Kind of makes me think maybe everything is all right, after all. Not much traffic, but what there was was the considerate type: low beams and speed limits, all the way. Cruisers. Cool for it, far as I'm concerned. That Eagles mood didn't last the whole ride, though; almost never does, and that's fine too. About halfway home, I was on this stretch that curves and rises over this hilled sort of area, and the piece-o'shit-mobile is doing its usual coughing and wheezing as it struggled to make the climb, when this hot-rod wannabe comes tearing up behind me. Feels almost like he's gonna zip right through my tailpipe and pop up outta my engine instead of just passing me, but he stops almost dead on my tail lights. Rides behind me for a good three or four minutes. No big deal, I guess; probably just some kid just got his license, wants to see how good he thinks he is at precision driving. Nothing I never tried myself, so I give him his shot. He stays back pretty close, but not too dangerous. Thrill rider. Asshole. Part of me smiled.
But his headlights. Fucking high beams, slamming into my face through the rearview mirrors and almost blinding me. Not cool, man. I dim the top and turn the outer mirrors away, so now the light is just casting out over my car. It's like I've got extra headlights of my own, now, offset and illuminating spots on the road I don't usually get to see at night. It looks cool, seeing things like that. The extra light played on the bushes and the trees and the garbage bins and the house-number signs, and it felt like I was driving a completely different road than normal. Before too long, hot-rod boy pulls into the passing lane and motors on. The effect is lost. But for those few minutes, I was somewhere else. Just one of those rare treats in life, where something mundane turns into an adventure. Even for a few minutes.
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