you're the best, kid

A couple months ago, I got into a minor fender bender on my way to work.  As I pulled over and got out to face the lady who'd forgotten she had brakes, I was mostly just shaken up and ticked off.  Not knowing what to do in the event of a car accident, I just took a picture of her license plate and pulled back onto the highway.

As I called my mom and merged into the heavy 7 a.m. traffic, I noticed that I had gotten right behind a semi truck.  Normally I would've passed it as soon as I could, but I was so ruffled by the accident and worried about my head which was starting to throb that I didn't bother going around it.

Several exits passed and still I was tailing him.  It was getting annoying, but there was no way I was going to switch lanes.  That meant side-swipe exposure.

Soon, my exit approached and Mr. Semi's right blinker started flashing.

Well that's funny.  I wonder if...no, he couldn't be.

I needed to make a right turn after the exit.  He turned right.

Left.  Ditto.

Right again.  Okay, this is weird.

Ohp.  Yep.  OF ALL THE PLACES HE COULD HAVE BEEN GOING.

As he put on his flashers and tried to back into the driveway, I carefully went around him and turned into the adjacent parking lot.

I didn't think crossing the street would be so dramatic:  The truck was only halfway into the parking lot and as I passed I heard a honk, then glanced at the driver who was looking at me with his hands in the air.  I kept walking, all the while thinking oh my gosh can this morning get any weirder.

Still unsure of how to lose this 18-wheeler that was obviously out to get me, I heard the window roll down and the driver call, "I'm sorry ma'am; it wasn't you!"

I finally made it into the building and clocked in (ironically, only two minutes late).  Fast-forward an hour or so, I kept bumping into the truck driver who had somehow been assigned to my life for the day.  He was middle-aged, short, stocky, and was rocking black glasses and a soul patch.

"Oh no, it's that same little girl again!" he said the first time.

"Gaahhh I keep running you over," he said when his dolly almost creamed me in the walk-in.

When the stock was all unloaded from the trailer, I ran into him one last time.

"You're the best, kid.  Pound it."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"The name's Glenn, kid.  I'm from California.  Hey, take it easy."  And he was gone.

I've never seen him since.

Every time that supplier delivers to our store, I always look to see if Glenn is the driver.

But I don't think I'll ever see him again.  Somehow I get the feeling God sent me an angel to keep me sane that day...and I'll never forget it.