I’m on the interstate, solidly in the middle of heavy traffic, trying to hold my own at a comfortable 65 or 70 or slightly more. Suddenly, from out of nowhere–maybe he dropped down out of the sky!–a motorcycle is all over me, appearing suddenly on my back bumper or just to my left elbow, then swerving around in front. The noise is horrendous and completely unexpected. He zooms past like he was jet-propelled and disappears into the distance.
I am unnerved.
Honestly, I need to exit immediately and find a rest area where I can kill the engine, get out and walk around, and get my wits back.
That was frightening.
The cyclist has no idea what he did. Or maybe he did.
Common sense says the fellow under that helmet drives a car from time to time and surely has had the experience of having a daredevil on a Harley materialize out of nowhere and scare the blazes out of him. Or maybe not.
If he had, he’d never do that to anyone else.