There I was, driving our van on westbound I-96. The wife was knitting, the kids were sleeping or watching Meet the Robinsons. They may have been doing both. I do not doubt the possibility. As I passed a car, I came up behind another. Fifty-five is not a recommended speed on I-96, either east or west bound. It is even less recommended to travel at that speed in the passing lane. I noticed that he was going to move back to the right lane for me. What a pleasant gent! However, he came back to the left.
Another car came up behind me. Now the passing lane is three cars deep with nobody on the right. Logically, the driver behind me decided we were morons and decided to get around us. Just as he passed Mr. Wavybritches, he was run onto the shoulder. That's right, there was nearly an accident.
It was obvious to me this guy was not in the right state of mind. It became more obvious as the "pass us on the right" ritual continued with the other motorists. I asked Sarah to call 911, and carefully plotted my path around this guy.
Sarah called. She told them that she'd like to report a drunk driver. The dispatcher asked "Is this a black Ford Taurus?" Indeed it was. We were not the first to call. We were then asked if we had the license plate number. I had just passed this guy, but I gladly slowed down and got back behind him so we could report the plate. I'm not sure how many black Tauruses couldn't drive straight that day, but I'm happy to be part of the team that helped identify the right one.
As I passed the guy, I looked over to see if he was intoxicated or just batshit crazy. I couldn't tell. I contemplated hanging out behind him with my flashers on, just to warn others that this guy was dangerous, but I decided that I should just get away from him.
And that's one of many exciting stories about my past week. Stay tuned for more!