Nothing unusual. Car driving alongside his, two guys in it. Looks at it, passenger in front smiles at him, he smiles back, looks front, car stays even with his, looks over, no particular reason, just something to do on the road, passenger talking to the driver, he accelerates a little to get ahead of them, for he doesn’t like driving alongside another car on the highway or really anyplace at the speed they’re going, sixty, sixty-five. It’s dangerous or could be. One wrong move and their cars might touch. Then he’s thinking about other things, what mail might be waiting for him at home, drink he’d like to have sometime soon after he gets home, kids are quiet in back, maybe sleeping or looking out the windows, and that’s that. Then the car’s on the other side of his. How’d it get there? Could it be the same car, for it was just over here. Looks more closely and it is. Same men, driver with the same two fingers from each hand, ones to the left and right of the thumbs, hooked under the top of the steering wheel same way as before as if he doesn’t really have that much control over it or wouldn’t in the slightest kind of ticklish driving situation.
