After helping a friend move recently in Holden, ME, I was tasked with giving a mutual friend a ride to his home in Eddington, ME. Nearly from the point of departure there was this car who had been following us.
Now, The Writer’s Mind always kicks in when people have been driving behind me for quite some time. I love playing this game, where if someone tails me for a bit, I like to imagine they’re chasing after me, and why. It makes driving fun. And this was no exception.
While I was going several miles over the speed limit this guy maintained a close proximity to my bumper. Within ten-15 feet.
I’m not making any stereotypical assumptions here, but he had Massachusetts plates. Immediately, I imagine the Red Sox Organization discovered that I made fun of the insane hype the team yields in New England (and really the sport itself) and this guy is the one the team sent to kill me.
After we get onto the main road (Route 9), we turn left and he’s still behind me.
I begin to worry that my “game” has become a reality, but then I quickly scoff that notion away. (By the way, this is all going on in my head).
We get to the dirt road at which my friend lives. He said it was a half a mile into this dirt road. Here’s where things got weird.
I continued to watch him as I turned to this uncommon road. He drove past it. But as I drove up the dirt hill, I saw he had come back and as I hit crested the turn above the hill, he pulled into the bottom of the intersection.
Now, I was really worried. I may have cut this guy off; or kicked his dog by accident. Why on Earth would he follow us up this road?
I guess it helps that I play this game, in case one day, I’m right; and it also must help that I play this game wholly in my head.
As I drove to my friend’s house, I kept a close eye on the rear view mirror. The road behind me was barren. I wondered if I came back down the one way road, he would be waiting for me at the bottom- gun in hand.
The more time passed, the less I believed it, yet you’d be crazy if you didn’t bet against the fact that I stuck my neck out trying to get a glimpse around the turn at the top of the hill.
He was gone. Maybe he turned around, maybe he was following me to get un-lost. Who knows really?
All I know is that while writing this entry, I remember where this whole self-constructed mind game started.
Back in 2004, I had a few friends in my old Cadillac and was driving to my friend Mitchell’s house I believe. It was dusk and it was difficult to discern who was driving behind the faceless headlights and the waning sun.
We were coming back from Fort Kent proper, going into the neighboring town of New Canada- Mitchell’s home, and there was an old car following us. I didn’t notice it at first, but it kept close, and sharply took turns to keep that distance.
My friend was the first to notice the car, when it accelerated to get even closer. Here we all took notice, then we decided to go another route to shake him.
He followed suit. We kept going past our friend’s home, because why would we want this guy to know where he lives? Soon after, we just plain stopped and he pulled up behind us. He stepped out of his car and–
It was Mitch. That bastard had his “boat” and had chased us the entire way home.
And now you can see this is why I always look behind me, I’m like a war veteran but for driving vehicles. I felt like I was in Joy Ride or Jeepers Creepers.
Thanks, Mitch- ya jerk. 😉
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