Firefighters' Fateful Encounter (Part 1)

“Cool your jets, bro!”

I stared into my rearview mirror at the jerk riding my tail, flashing his Lambo’s high beams. As if there were somewhere I could go to get out of his entitled way.

The wanker flashed me again. I opened my window, gave him the finger, then geared down to fourth and reduced my speed to the actual limit.

“Not pulling over so you can gun it to the next car and harass their ass for the next three miles,” I said to the face I saw in my rearview mirror, which was also talking to me. Well, screaming at me.

I tapped my brakes three times to slow down just enough to be annoying, not dangerous. At least, it shouldn’t have been dangerous but this self-centered dick pulled around me, passed on the double line, then pulled back in less than two car lengths ahead of me. He hit his brakes. And not just to be annoying.

I slammed my foot down, fast and too hard. I skidded sideways, directing my car away from the oncoming traffic lane. My wheels touched the soft shoulder and pulled toward the ditch but I’d done this dance a dozen times before on icy roads. Muscle memory overrode brain and I lifted my foot off the brake. My trusty Subaru straightened out and I steered back onto the road. Aside from a very tight sphincter and an adrenalin sweat, everything was fine.

Sadly, it was just another day on the...