I was waiting at a stoplight this morning when a yellow Corvette pulled up alongside me.
I looked at the driver. He was an older guy. Bald.
I didn’t like him.
Something about his olderness combined with his baldiness and his Corvettedness just screamed “weirdo.”
So I put my car in park and revved the engine.
Which roared with all the screaming fury that one could expect of a four-cylinder Honda Accord with a child seat in the back.
When the light turned green, I popped the engine into gear and beat him through the intersection.
Granted, I was the only one racing, but still, it felt good.
Eventually, he pulled up alongside me.
Then he just stared.
Not saying a single word. Just silent.
Just like a weirdo.