ROAD RAGE ON I-89

“If you don’t drink, don’t drive. If you drink, drive like hell. Why? Because freedom, not safety, is the highest good. Because the public roads should be wide open to all–children on tricycles, little old ladies in Eisenhower Plymouths, homicidal lesbians driving forty-ton Mack tractor-trailers. Let us have no favorites, no licenses, no goddamn rules for the road. Let every freeway be a free-for-all.”

– Edward Abbey

            The fighter jets roared overhead and across the Burlington sky. It was a day in late summer, and Nate frowned up at the winged animals whose tone nearly shook the ground beneath him as he walked out the door of the Chimera Bookshop, just getting off a shift. Nate waited for the noise to subside. He took a deep breath and made his way to the parking garage. 

            As he walked, Nate Roberts decided to store the image of the jets in the back of his mind. He thought instead about Sarah Collins, his fianceé, who was probably starting to make dinner at the apartment they shared in Waterbury. He reached his Prius at the parking garage, and looked around twice before hopping into the driver’s seat. He sat for a moment and relaxed as the air conditioning kicked in. 

            The car began to hum as the inside began to cool down, and Nate smiled. He smiled because he had made it. He smiled because his car was in good shape, ready to transport him back to Waterbury, and into the arms of his soon-to-be wife. He pulled out of the garage and made the turn onto Pearl Street.

            As he drove through town, Nate noticed a curious lack of pedestrians walking on the streets and sidewalks. Church Street, which was usually packed with shoppers, was nearly vacant, with only a few stragglers pacing up and down the cobblestone with their heads down and their hands in their pockets. Nate turned on the radio to be greeted by the raucous scream of Lemmy Kilmister. He quickly turned it off, deciding that the only voice he really wanted to hear was that of Sarah’s. He cleared his throat and spoke aloud to the car’s system.

            “Siri, call Sarah.”

            “Calling Sarah.” The speaker chimed.

            Sarah answered after three rings.

            “Hey.” She sounded like she was eating something. Carrots maybe…

            “Hey babe. Just got off work and I’m headed home… wanted to hear your voice.”

            “That’s sweet. I was just about to start on dinner. How does tikka masala sound?”

            “Sounds great. Hey, have you been to Burlington today? It’s like a ghost town over here.”

            “Really? No, I’ve been working all day.” Sarah worked from home as a freelance writer. “What do you mean, ghost town…”

            “There’s just nobody here. I just drove past Church Street and only saw probably eight or nine people walking around.”

            “Well, I guess that makes sense, right? They’re telling everyone to stay inside.”

            “Oh right… This damned lockdown. I’ve been distracted. Only sold like five books today. Also, the city’s been flying those filthy jets overhead all day.”

            “I can’t stand those things.” Sarah let out a noise of disgust. 

            “Me neither.”

            Nate exited the Queen City and pulled up to the first set of lights on Williston Rd. He slowed down and watched a pair of pigeons bicker on top of the lights. A man on a motorcycle ignored the red and barreled through the intersection. Nate laughed at this.

            “What’s funny, hon?” Sarah asked.

            “Just some maniac on the road.” 

            “Need to focus on driving?”

            “What? Oh, no it’s alright. I’d rather keep talking.”

            “That doesn’t sound safe, Nate.”

            “No babe, it’s fine.”

            “Alright, if you say so. Hey, while I’m thinking of it, it would be great if you could get some vegetables from the store on your way home. Remember that Caroline doesn’t eat meat…”

            The light turned green, and Nate drove on down Williston Rd, past the gas stations and bars and the airport. He glared out his window as he passed the airport, again thinking about the jets. Sarah was talking about her cousin, who was coming to visit from Connecticut sometime soon. Nate never really got along with Caroline, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. She was a perfectly pleasant human being, but she looked down on the fact that he was a pescatarian. Hell, he had been a full-blown carnivore before he started dating Sarah. The airport remained in Nate’s peripheral as he pulled up to the next set of lights right before the exit onto I-89. The light changed to red as he approached, so he put on the brakes and listened to Sarah as he waited for the light to change again.

            “So, you can get the groceries?’ She asked, slightly annoyed. “We really just need more vegetables.” 

            “What? Oh yeah, yeah, the groceries. I’ll stop at the Village Market once I get back to Waterbury.” 

            A car was approaching in Nate’s side mirror. It pulled up to the light on his left side, obscuring his view of the airport.

            “Great. I hope you’re ready for a weekend of quiche and ratatouille.” 

            “I can hardly wait… great, this is just great.” Nate glanced out his window. 

            A filthy SUV had pulled up next to him. Its original color was unrecognizable, as it looked like the car hadn’t been washed since last February and it was now nearing the end of July. There were distorted stickers on the windshield and bumpers of the Tahoe, and a little American flag attached to the radio antennae. A man wearing a bandanna with the knot tied on his forehead glared down at Nate from the passenger seat. He looked like he too possibly hadn’t been washed since February. His glare turned to a sneer, and he motioned for Nate to roll down his window. 

            “…What’s great? Nate, honey, are you ok?” Sarah spoke out through the system. 

            “Yeah, honey it’s fine. Some guy just pulled up next to me. I’m gonna roll down the window and see what he wants.”

            “Okay, be careful.”

            Nate rolled down his window and looked up at the man in the Tahoe with what he hoped was a courteous smile. The smile was not reciprocated. The man in the driver’s seat was much larger than the passenger, and he picked his nose as the man with the bandanna eyed Nate from head to toe.

            “That’s a nice car you got there.” The passenger indicated the Prius and then muttered. “God-damn-lib-tard.”

            Nate continued to smile politely, not entirely sure of what to say.

            “Yeah… I bet it gets great mileage.” The man continued to sneer.

            Nate began to feel that this was the longest red light of his life.

            “Excuse me?” Nate said, raising his eyebrows.

            “You heard me… fuckin’ faggot.”

            The man spat on the ground just as the light turned green. Nate stared at the man in shock but managed to shift into drive and accelerate onto the ramp and onto Interstate 89 headed towards Waterbury. As far as he could see, there were only one or two other cars on the road aside from the Tahoe, which made a slow start after the light and trailed 100 yards or so behind Nate on the interstate. He eyed the car warily in his rear-view. 

            “Nate… What the hell was that?” Sarah’s voice rang out and Nate jumped.

            “Sarah!!! I forgot you were there for a second. Oh, that was nothing, just some rednecks giving me trouble.”

            “Wow, some planet we live on.” Sarah laughed.

            “The world is but a canvas to our imagination.” Nate stated, somewhat dreamily.

            “That’s pretty.” Sarah remarked sarcastically.

            “Yeah.” Nate laughed, trying to find his confidence. He glanced up to find the Tahoe growing larger in the rear-view. “Listen, Sarah, I should really focus on driving. I’ll get the groceries and see you when I get home.”

            “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying on the line.”

            “No, it’s fine. I’ll see you soon!”

            “Alright… Be safe Nate.”

            “Will do. Love you babe.”

            “Love y—”

            Nate hung up the phone and glanced nervously again at the rear-view. The Tahoe was only about fifty feet or so behind him, and he could make out the man with the bandana through the windshield, donning the same malevolent grin he had worn at the traffic light. Black smoke billowed from the Tahoe’s tailpipe, which was clearly lacking a muffler. Nate turned a bend, half hoping for a state trooper to appear from a speed trap. No such luck. The Tahoe was right behind him. It squealed into the fast lane and pulled up neck to neck with the Prius. Nate tried not to look at the man with the bandana. He instead tried to look unconcerned as the man mouthed obscenities through the window. Through the offenses and insane hand signals, Nate could tell that these were no longer mere taunts from the man and his obese driver. These were death threats. 

            “Siri, call the police.” Nate spoke aloud.

            “Calling the police.”

            After a few rings, the dispatcher answered.

            “911, what is your emergency?”

            “Hi yeah, I’m on interstate 89 halfway between Burlington and Waterbury. I’m being chased by a couple of lunatics.”

            “Okay. Sir I’m going to need you to stay calm. Are you in a vehicle?”

            “Yes, I am driving a blue Prius.”

            “Okay. And you said you are being chased. Chased by whom?”

            “Some rednecks in a filthy old Tahoe.” 

            “Mmmhmm. Okay sir, if you could pull over at your earliest convenience, I’ll have a trooper sent out to your location. In the meantime, I’m going to need you to hang tight.”

            “Are you kidding me?” Nate laughed. “Hang tight? That’s your advice?”

            “Sir, please watch your tone.”

            “Yeah, okay. Thanks a lot.” He hung up the phone.

            Nate’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the steering wheel. He could feel himself shaking with anger as the Tahoe began swerving menacingly, trying to push him off the road. Nate slammed on the breaks and steered into the left lane behind the Tahoe. If these back-of-the-woods halfwits wanted to intimidate him, Nate didn’t intend to go down without a fight. They were no better than the bullies Nate had had to face all throughout grade school, first for his scrawny physique, and when he grew into his body a bit more, for his Jewish heritage. In any case, he kept a safe distance from the Tahoe, cautious that they too could put on their brakes and cause considerable damage to his beloved electric car. They steered into the driving lane and slowed down to meet him once again, neck-to-neck. 

            The driver looked at him with one eyebrow raised, as if to say, ‘where do you think you’re going?’

            “Leave me alone… Leave me alone! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” Nate yelled, though he knew no one could hear him.

            Nate could see the man with the bandana cackling in the passenger seat. Any hope for police intervention was long gone. Sweat began to pour down Nate’s forehead, despite the Prius’ air conditioning. Why had he hung up the phone with Sarah? If he was going to be murdered, she could have at least put together a description of the perpetrators. He knew he’d never make it as far as the Waterbury exit. His only hope was the Richmond exit. It was coming up in a few miles. Nate maintained his speed of eighty miles an hour as the Tahoe put on a burst of speed and once again pulled out in front of him. 

            Papers began to fly out of the passenger side window. Old newspapers and wrappings from McDonalds landed on Nate’s windshield. The guy was trying to blind him. A golf club soared through the air and landed on the hood with a thump and a crack on the windshield.

            “Are you insane?! Alright, That’s it!”

            Nate put the pedal to the floor and rammed into the SUV. He glanced up to see the driver of the car looking scared in his rear-view. Nate steered slightly to the left, setting the Tahoe on a slanted trajectory into the right lane. It stayed on its path for a minute, but Nate could tell it was losing its traction. With one final jerk of the steering wheel, he sent the Tahoe into a spin. The driver struggled to regain control, but to no avail. The Tahoe nearly toppled as it pulled a complete one eighty and slammed into the guardrail facing oncoming traffic. 

            Nate let out a whoop of victory. He laughed, somewhat cautiously at first, but as the Tahoe began to shrink in his mirror, and eventually fade into complete obscurity, his laugh became ecstatic. He wiped a tear from his eye and relaxed his hands on the steering wheel. As he made it to Waterbury in record time, Nate pulled into the Village Market and parked, letting out a sigh of relief as he did so. He walked into the store and collected an array of vegetables for Sarah and her cousin. 

            As he loaded the food into the Prius, Nate glanced at the crack on the windshield. He estimated the damage to his Prius at somewhere around fifteen hundred dollars. He decided to try the police again. They would be able to meet him now that he was off the road. As the phone rang, Nate considered the altercation which had just occurred on I-89.

‘These men are undoubtedly unhinged’, He thought. ‘In the animal kingdom, men like these are never to be considered lions. They lack the majesty of a lion. Men like these are the scavengers who arrive after the lion has finished eating. But they should not be taken lightly either. They are the jackals that only get caught when a pattern is discovered. They are the cub that isn’t taken seriously until it begins to lash out in a tantrum, smearing its greasy paws all over its coat and paying little regard to the cost of spit cleaning.’

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