I've gone on about Utah drivers before, but today it got personal. I had to swerve well outside the rightmost lane in order to avoid a very speedy weaver. There was plenty of room in all lanes, but I guess he thought the space I was occupying was where he had to be. In any case my jumpy heart sank as I heard what I was sure was the side of my car scraping against a concrete barrier. Little punk in his little phallic low-rider black car sped off.
When I arrived at the office a few minutes later (in a pretty foul mood), I saw no damage at all. I'm thinking I must have just winged one of those solid-looking-but-flimsy orange drums, and the sound I heard was adrenaline-distorted or something.
Later, I took my wife out for lunch at one of our usual haunts, only to be horrified that my usual Wednesday soup (Wisconsin cheddar) was not on the menu. I guess I could have ordered something that wasn't the lunch special, or tried one of the not-Wisconsin-cheddar soups. But hadn't I been through enough today?
When the waitress came by and I asked if the cheese soup was truly gone, she said no, they did have it today. I was so happy, I didn't even have the presence of mind to find out whether that meant they had it today only or if they'll keep having it every Wednesday.
But I'm alive, the car's alive, and I got my cheese. So, scary moments notwithstanding, I'll still call this day a success. In the words of the great Dr. Zoidberg, "Life was bad, but now it's good! Forever!"