This week, I have oddly taken on qualities of invisibility.
Three times in the past 48 hours, another vehicle has attempted to change lanes into me while going 70 mph on the freeway. Each time, only my defensive driving skills prevented an accident.
Once, I veered onto the left shoulder. Another time, I honked my horn, and the offending vehicle swerved back into its lane to avoid a collision. And most recently, I actually had to swerve into the lane next to me, where a third car slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting me as I tried to avoid a collision with the idiot driver who didn’t even notice my existence as he cruised along.
My car is not slate gray. Or brown. It is freaking neon blue. Yes, we’ve had sunny days here lately, but I’m pretty gosh darn sure my car doesn’t blend in with the sky. How could these drivers not see me?!
As much as I don’t appreciate these attempts on my life, I suppose perhaps I should embrace my newfound status of invisibility. It sure beats being the target of everyone’s potshots.
And hey, Mia Thermopolis found true love by identifying the one guy who saw her when she was invisible.
There’s hope for me yet.
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