I was out on Communion calls on Sunday, getting on toward a couple hundred miles in this expansive parish, when I wound up behind this guy, and not for the first time, and it’s always the same with this guy: all over the road, over the double yellow or with a tire in the ditch. Weave, weave, weave. You would think he was drunk. But, I think not. Or maybe an angry drunk.
You can’t really tell, but when I’m behind him he always seems to be leaning way over into the passenger seat, yelling down into the seat at what must be just a little kid. I mean, it’s really ugly, like you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to see a little kid thrown right through the closed window and into the ditch.
But then! Then he turns off, always into the same driveway, and is immediately followed by what looks to be a deputy in an unmarked black Suburban with super-blackened windows. Hopefully he’s getting nailed for something, like a custody kidnapping. But, what do I know? Maybe he was yelling at pet goldfish. It’s just that it reminds me of when I was a kid and was in untoward situations in untoward vehicles. Bad stuff happens. I got out of it. I don’t know about this kid. It seems to happen a lot. I’m rarely on that road, and there’s a quantifiable percentage of times that this scenario plays out with this same vehicle, which would mean that it happens a lot more than just when I happen to be on that road impossibly coincidentally behind this very guy. It’s stuff I hate to see. But maybe he’s in prison now.