I am loving these stories! I have been ordered by Pea to watch Scissorhands then make a report, so I'd best do as I am told. My husband is off getting the thing now.
Anyway, while I am watching the movie, everybody can post more stories like crazy.
Okay, a short one before I go:
Traveling through Arizona, my daugher and I were hurtling along the highway at the speed of light or relatively close to it. What the hell, the roads were straight and we were Thelma and Louise.
A jerk came up behind us, then kept right on our butts, he kept trying to pass us. We weren't having any of that, and sped up, for he had been tailgating and behaving rather poorly, in our estimation.
That jerk just kept trying, though. He sure did seem anxious to pass us. Finally, I relented at about 100 mph, and let him go around.
As he passed, he gave us a starkly disbelieving look then sped on. We felt sure this look was one of awe at the skill and derring-do of Canadian women. It was an interesting car, we noted as he passed. My daughter and I exclaimed to each other about certain of its odd features, in particular a metal barricade between the front and back seat. Suddenly it all became too clear to us. We knew what that barricade was for. To this day we do not know why he did not pull us over.
Another quickie: One winter's eve, my daughter and I took a notion to leave at about 9 pm from the Okanagan and drive to Calgary for breakfast.
It was one of those notions that reasonable people dismiss immediately, but in our case, the idea grew on us and there was nothing for it but to act on it.
On a lonely dark road along the way, we noticed someone driving behind us. There was something sinister about that car, something that made us feel a little on edge. So much on edge, in fact, that my driving became a bit erratic, I'd slow down to let the guy pass, but he would slow down as well. I'd speed up again, then slow down, even swerve a bit to let the menacing presence know that we were not people to take lightly.
We pretty well knew he was a mass-murderer. There seemed little doubt. He stayed right with us, and there we were, just two cars on that lonely stretch of road, one with two women in it and the other with a mass-murderer in it. Really, it was anybody's guess as to who was crazier.
In that dark night there suddenly shone a light. A beacon of hope? The neon welcome of a tawdry roadside motel? Well, not quite, but our mass-murderer scenario did require a certain adjustment as we explained ourselves to the puzzled officer.