The maniac in the blue Ford comes from behind me. He overtakes me and weaves between the cars from left to right lane like he has a death wish. No indicator, nor patience and no regard for anyone else.
I exit the Warrego highway at North Ipswich and stop at the stop sign behind a big old Council truck. It blasts the horn and startles me. What is his problem?
I follow the truck, both of us turning right. On the other side of the overpass is a car with the driver door open. The truck misses swiping the door off by a dog’s tail. The car door closes and the car takes off behind the truck, dust and gravel spitting out behind the tyres. Then I realise it is the maniac in the blue Ford.
The Ford is swaying back and forth on the single lane, trying to pass the truck. The guy is insane. I want to get his licence plate, but I can’t read it from this distance and my self preservation is telling me not to get closer.
At the T junction, the lights are green.
The truck stops in the left turning lane.
The car stops in the right turning lane.
They are stopped side by side at the green light.
Finally the truck lurches forward. The car burns out smoke and screeches in front the truck. They both turn left.
The light is yellow; I stop and watch the vehicles curve up the hill. The car is dancing back and forth in front of the truck. The truck is hemmed in. The truck pulls over and the car stops in front of it.
The truck driver gets out in his orange fluro workvest.
The Ford driver gets out, dressed entirely in black.
I turn my CD off and pick up my mobile phone.
They step toward each other.
The light is green and I turn left. I have lost sight of them.
I curve up the hill.
The two men are on the footpath shaking hands.
Did I see that right?
I look in my rear vision mirror. They are leaning against the front of the truck, arms crossed casually over their chests, chatting.