Here is a situation that happens to me weekly. I’m driving on a two-lane road and going about five over the 30 miles-per-hour speed limit. A car comes zooming up behind me and appears to attach itself to my rear bumper.
He can’t pass me. There are hills and curves ahead. I look in my rearview mirror and inspect my intruder. I’m guessing he’s in his fifties. He’s wearing a black baseball cap and a frustrated frown.
What do I do? My first thought is to reduce my speed to five miles per hour under the limit and wave a friendly hand to him through my window.
This will show him he’s not as important as he may think – and increase his anger and anxiety. That’s what this black-capped, dangerous driver deserves. It may even let me feel a small sense of justice and power.
That’s not what I do. I put on my blinker and pull off to an open area on the side of the road. He shoots by me.
I needed to reach the age of 70 before I chose to take this approach. You may call me a coward. I prefer to think of myself as smart and self-reliant.