I'm outside of Smith's today putting my groceries in the trunk when a great big fire truck starts to swing into the road between the parked cars. I swear it's the same truck that nearly creamed me the night before.
I'm behind my car's backside with the cart slightly in the road and I notice he's not going to make the turn without A. hitting the van parked next to me or B. hitting me and/or my cart.
I stepped into the space between the van and my car and waited.
He stopped with the big metal thingy hanging perilously close to the van's topside.
He backed up and started again.
Slowly he swung around until he could pass and drive off to the back of the lot to park.
I looked at the driver's face.
This time, because it was still light I could see his features.
He looked a little sheepish as he passed by. He also looked like he might be trying to figure out where he'd seen a little gray Mazda like mine before.
I wanted to run after him and discuss some points of driving safely with him but I had ice cream melting in the carton so I let it pass.
But if I run into him a third time, we're talking.
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