Mad Max: 1 – Bull: 0.


Just another Friday morning commute.

Mind is pond skittering. Nothing heavy on the calendar. Chance to leave early. Long weekend. Kids home. 58° F.  Morning sun warming with forecaster calling for more Spring heat. Gnawing on a protein bar. Windows down.  Feelin’ light. Feelin’ Gratitude.

Ray P comes sauntering in. His Detroit Tigers’ baseball cap is slung low. His pants hiked way up and cinched with a belt burnishing a oversized golden buckle. A middle aged client from 20 years back who inherited a small sum from his Mom who had the foresight to dribble out food money in monthly installments.  Mail was unacceptable. He had to pick it up.  He’d bite his lip hungrily ripping open the envelope…stare at the check, look at me: “Son, I’ve got the world by the a**.”

I’m at the speed limit in the center lane, flowing with the other fishes, no obstructions this morning. Son, I’ve got the world by the a**.

A flicker in the rear view mirror. Blue. A humingbird. Across two lanes. And back again. Dashing in and out. In seconds, it’s on me. On my tail. A car so small, I can’t see the Driver. If you can’t see my mirrors, I probably can’t see you.

It scampers by me and cuts directly in front. I tap my brakes. It has wedged into a space that wouldn’t accommodate a pick-up. But would accommodate a Smart Car. The peaceful easy feelin’ is seeping out of the balloon.

Smart Car swings into the center lane and is boxed in. Paradox. Smart Car. Tree Hugger. Mad Max. 

I close the gap.  And glance to my right. Mad Max is Middle-Aged Mad Maxine. A pink lotus flower swinging from the rearview mirror.

She looks over. Smiles. Points in front of my car asking me to let her in.  We’re doing 69. I raise my eyebrows. Are you out of your mind? I contemplate the next move. 1800 pound midget vs. a 4680 pound Teutonic Beast. Yet, this Woman is jitterbugging around you like you are standing still. Are you a Man, A Boy-Man or something else altogether?  I glance at the speedometer: 74.

I pull up on the accelerator, let her sneak in and she flips me a wave and scoots up the highway.

The tired middle aged Bull is whooped by a Smart Car.

vivit et vivet.

Image Source: Perfect The Way You Are Right Now


  1. I love this. “Mad Max is middle aged Maxine”. Funny.


  2. I have been in a Smart Car once (in Brussels – don’t ask). I was closer than I have ever been to kissing the rear end of the car in front of us. It felt like a scary bumper car route. Glad you let Maxine have her moment.


  3. Chivalry isn’t dead! 🙂


  4. Reblogged this on Writing Out Loud and commented:
    Not exactly NH driving, but I enjoyed David’s piece.


  5. and this is why they are called smart cars, it’s in their drivers’ strategies. mind games and standoffs and flitting around galore. it’s all in their arsenal.


  6. Oh, yeah, baby! That’s what I’m talking’ about. I’ll see you in the passing lane!


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