I’m on the interstate, solidly in the middle of the pack of motorists, holding my own at a comfortable 65 or 70 or even 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. 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 feel like taking the next exit and finding a rest area where I can pause and get hold of myself, breathe deeply, and regain my composure.
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.
At this point I have a private conversation with the unknown cyclist. No, I do not curse him (really). In fact, I’m far more likely to send up a prayer that the Lord will “protect that fool and protect everyone he comes into contact with; he’s an accident looking to happen.”
Then, I wish I could tell him one huge thing….