A few weeks ago, I was en route to the temp job. I was on 91 northbound, just at the end of that nine-mile stretch of road before exit 18. Mine was the only car in the left lane, and I was safely passing cars that were on my right. Out of nowhere (seemingly) a van pulled up right on my tail. As soon as there was space, instead of waiting for me to pull to the right lane, he did one of those scary weaves into the right lane and right back into the left lane about one foot in front of my bumper. After the honking and the obligatory swearing that only I could hear, right before me I saw the phone number of the company advertised in big bold letters on the back of the van. I quickly wrote down the number in my head and pulled out my cellphone. By the time I got the phone out, the car was nearly out of my sight. I pulled into the right lane and headed for my exit. As soon as I got to the stoplight at the end of exit 18, I called the number. After enough rings that I had thought about hanging up, a man answered the phone in a terse, unfriendly manner.

ME: Um, hi, how are you today?
GUY: [sounded puzzled, annoyed] Fine, what do you want?
ME: [sheepish] Well, I just felt I had to call you and tell you that one of your drivers is on 91, driving like a maniac.
GUY: [interest piqued] Really? Where are you?
ME: [Considering his change of tone of voice, my confidence came back. I started to talk in my best approximation or what I imagine to be trucker-speak.] I’m on 91 north, just hit exit 18.
GUY: What’s he even doing over there? Is that Hatfield?
ME: No, that there would be the first Northampton exit, yesiree.
GUY: Huh, he shouldn’t even be out there. That’s very interesting. I appreciate the information.
ME: Thanks, you have a nice day.
GUY: Yeah, you too.

I know this might be a little obvious, but don’t drive like an idiot if your employer’s phone number is printed on your vehicle. It’s just common sense. Plus, I might be right behind you.

[DISCLAIMER 1: As it was three weeks or so ago, the dialogue printed above is a dramatization of the actual story, but close enough that you don't need to go and get all preachy on me.
DISCLAIMER 2: This story was inspired by TIRH's near-accident on 91 North this morning, but in no way does that mean that I'm implying he's a bad driver, although if I had been the car he almost hit today and he'd had a phone number written on his car, evidence suggests that I would have called the number.]

You are a Parisian.

What’s your Inner European?
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