A Mini Tale

Traffic was light as he drove north one cloudy weekday morning. He cruised along the highway in his tan sedan and listened to classical music on the radio to ease the tension that built whenever he sat behind the wheel. He lost himself in the sounds of a string quartet.

As the scenery and miles flowed by, he found himself creeping up on a cherry red Mini in the fast lane, one lane to his left. On this day, "fast" meant five miles below the speed limit. It was as though the Mini was a bright red fish on the end of an invisible line that he was reeling in slowly.

His sedan and the Mini were soon side by side. He was sailing by when the Mini began drifting into his lane. He checked his mirror and veered to the right, barely avoiding the collision. The Mini corrected abruptly and angled back to its own lane. He lifted his foot off the accelerator and allowed the Mini to pass him. As it did, he glanced over at the driver.

Staring back at him was the oldest, tiniest, most startled Asian woman he had ever seen. She looked frail and wore glasses with frames the size of her car's headlights. The bottom rims were barely clearing the steering wheel. Considering her white hair and wrinkles, he guessed she was nearly 75, but with his tendency to guess low, she was probably closer to 125. If his great-grandmother had ever driven a vehicle, he imagined she would look very similar to the shocked woman looking his direction.

The vision of it all made him laugh and he was still playing the close collision in his head as the Mini pulled ahead and began drifting into his lane again. With the lane change nearly complete, it occurred to her to signal. She allowed her flasher to blink twice before turning it off.

He shook his head and turned up the soothing voice of Hoyt Smith announcing the next orchestral piece. He couldn't wait for tomorrow when he could be back on the train and free from the madness.