I think there was a drunk driver behind me on my way home from work on Friday. I say “I think” because I suppose he could have been incapacitated in some other way. But it sure looked like drunk driving.
I was at the light at the corner of Harlem and North Main, right before the two lanes merge into one on Route 2. A guy pulled up behind me in a truck. And I mean, he pulled up RIGHT behind me. If he’d been any closer, he would have been IN my trunk. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I just figured him for one of those obnoxious “Friday” drivers who have got to get home RIGHT NOW to start their weekend.
But he did seem awfully close, so I turned around to get a good look at him. He looked to be a guy in his forties, unkempt, and kept combing his fingers through his hair. The guy in the PT Cruiser next to me saw me turn around, so he turned around, too. Then, when he turned back, he shot me a look of concern. I think maybe we were thinking the same thing. But, of course, then the light turned green.
Immediately, the guy in the truck began weaving back and forth uncertainly. He managed to pass me, but with only inches to spare. I backed off and tried to give him as much room as possible. I think the other drivers around me sensed something was wrong, as we all immediately slowed down. The drivers in front of us weren’t so lucky.
The truck very nearly ran two cars off the road trying to “merge” into the one lane. Once he was in the lane, he wanted to pass the car in front of him and began to try to pass on the right. One problem – there was nothing but a ditch on the right side. There is no lane, not even a flat piece of land. His truck actually teetered on the edge before he seemed to realize there was no way to pass. Then he began to weave towards the left and into oncoming traffic. Those cars slowed down big time – there was no question something was very obviously wrong with this driver.
I picked up my cell phone with the intention of reporting the driver, but then a turn separated us, and I had no idea where he went, what his license plate number was, or even the make and model of his car.
I called Brett, instead, and asked him what number we are supposed to call to report a drunk driver. Do we call 9-1-1? Do we call a police number, since it is a “non” emergency? Do we call a special number? Brett didn’t know, but I’m going to have to find out now. I’m really racked with guilt that this guy was on the streets and someone could have gotten hurt. I just wasn’t prepared. But (although I hope there isn’t a “next time”) I want to be better prepared in the future.
When I got home, Brett and I thanked God for preserving me and prayed for the man and his family – whatever the circumstance.
Later, when I was checking the answering machine, I realized we had accidentally recorded the conversation I had with Brett earlier. As I listened to my panicked voice recount every shaky detail, I realized:
a.) I have a very annoying, whiny voice. Why did no one tell me?
b.) Why Brett was so glad when I got home.
I don’t remember feeling quite THAT panicked. I mean, after all, I was behind the guy. He couldn’t really cause me any harm, but I sure sounded scared on the phone.
The whole experience affected me. I realized (yet, again) how short life can be. It only takes one irresponsible driver, in a sea of competent ones, to cause loss of life. And I learned I need to be better prepared to handle this sort of thing.
After all, next time, I might end up in FRONT of the bad driver.
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