I leave the house before five in the morning, to get to the Y for the Pilates class. At five, Great Truths appear in the thinking for nothing else is going on in the world. Traffic isn’t worrisome, but deer are a problem. I know the hot zones, those places where deer like to be, and so I slow down.
Fog is beginning to form as I drive, but even the fog isn’t up yet.About the time I get to Valdosta, the fog is settling in, and I’m hoping it’s gone by the time the sun starts to show in the east. Pilates comes and goes, I feel great, but when I leave, the fog is thick and the sun is sleeping in.
The time is zero seven in the morning. I have about thirty minutes before work traffic starts getting weird, but I have to go grocery shopping. Zero Seven Twenty sees me on the road, ahead of most of the traffic that is going to crank up, but the fog is thicker now. The sun isn’t going to help.
And here we go…
The first person to totally ignore the fact conditions have changed and everyone ought to behave is a guy that pulls up right beside me on US84 heading west. He’s in this great big black SUV and I deal with him swiftly.
I hit the brakes. Hard.
He’s not ready for this, and he zooms on ahead, and now I know. He was using me to block the car behind him and now, the two play bumper tag. In the fog. With cars.
I nearly call 911 but wait to see if they’re going to kill one another first. They speed off into the distance, and I lose them in the mist. But I have to keep an eye out for a wreck in front of me, now.
As I approach the Withlacoochee River, the fogs thickens and I slow down. A car passes me, and nearly cuts me off as he changes lanes to get ahead of me.
What the Actual?
Then I notice this car is being pursued by another, and the second car passes the first and cuts in front of him.
I brake gently to ease away from the drama.
Another car joins the first two, with the car in the lead slowing down, and the car behind him riding his bumper. Or at least that’s what it looks like. I’m backing away.
The third car in this party decides to back away, and so now there’s a buffer between me and the loonies. More cars are arriving, and the two who are playing tag now have to stop or risk other people’s lives. They keep passing one another, and one of them nearly hits a semi.
They both decide that’s enough as we’re all heading into Quitman.
I pull into the parking lot of a store and drink water. I need water and I need a break from this sort of madness. This is why I do not like people. This is why I live in the woods. This is why I suspect we’re all going to hell in a handbasket.
The rest of the drive is uneventful, and I get to write when I get home.
Take Care,
Mike