Play At The Plate

The call was "Safe at home!" but 4,650 miles into a 4,659 mile trip, it was very much in question for a few moments.  After a long, boring day on the interstate, literally less than 10 miles from home (and directly in front of the only Level I trauma center in the Lehigh Valley,) this happened:

Me in the center lane, left tire track as always, Donna a few lengths behind me in the right track, and some douchebag in a big Penske box truck pulling an open car trailer in the right.  With me directly alongside his rear axle and ahead of the trailer, I see the turn signal come on.  He wants my lane.  I shake my head no.

I have no idea if he sees me and is just planning ahead, but I always, always assume the bastard is out to kill me.  It's how I haven't been killed yet.  And as I confirm my options, Mr. Bag makes his move and about pins me between him and the car in the left lane, who has no idea any of this going on.  I went with "gas it," since I was closer to the front of the left lane car than the back, and wasn't 100% sure if the space behind him was open or not (shame on me, I know.)

So, I squirted out just in front of Mr. Oblivious into the left lane, while Mr. Bag lays on the air horn, while I give him the upturned palm, followed by the bird.  The horn just convinced me that he knew exactly what was up and expected me to fall back and give him the lane.  I was never really in a panic, but I can't say the same for Donna watching this all unfold in front of her.  Now, seconds later, I'm alive and she is PISSED.

She tears out around and in front of him and slams the throttle shut, giving a gesture confirming my assertion that he's #1.  He quickly goes for the far left lane to get around her, and she swerves over in front of him.  And, back again to the middle, another block and reinforcing hand gesture.  Aaand, now Kevin is getting worried and Mr. Left lane is about to shit himself. Now the guy falls in behind the car in the left lane who has slowed as well, is stuck unable to gain speed at the bottom of a long hill, and Donna is satisfied and off we go.  Buh bye, Mr. Bad Ending.  Home to unpack, order a pizza and have a beer.