I travel on the Beltway toward Tysons. Like everyone else, I get over to the right to take Leesburg Pike to Tysons, then remember that you need to get in the left-most of the two exit lanes.
Then a minivan makes the same decision, just a lot later and in a lot more traffic.
Then the minivan hits its brakes hard.
I hit my brakes and pray … stopping … stopping …
Stopped. Maybe an inch or two short of the minivan’s rear bumper.
Relief turns quickly to anger. HONK! HONK! HONNNNNNKKKKK!!!!!
“Bam?” I think.
Hey, wait … that’s from behind.
Hey, I’ve been in an accident!
OK, let’s pull over …
Phew! The back of my car has just a scratch or two on the bumper.
The guy behind me … ick!
But he’s strangely calm. Even apologetic about my bumper, though he took the worst of it. He gives me his number and drives off.
OK, ready to merge back into traffic …
Son of a bitch — will someone please let me back in?