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You’ve Got to Love Karma

Mostly True Memoirs

Oh, you’ve got to love Karma.

I was driving down a residential street in my neighborhood.

It was a lovely spring morning.

People were outdoors playing ball, doing yard work and washing their cars.

Families with strollers and dogs were out and about.

Bicycles and joggers were out in droves.

So, of course, I drove very slowly and carefully.

Apparently I was driving too slowly and carefully.

A young lady, driving fast, screeched behind me, yanked around my car quickly and roared past in a fury.

Everyone yelled at her.

One guy chased after her.

Several people took a picture of her license plate.

I continued on slowly past the now-outraged crowd.

When I drove out of the neighborhood and turned onto the main street, the traffic was backed up for a passing train.

I pulled up right behind my speed-demon nemesis.

I honked and waved.

She flipped me the bird.

Whatever.

You’ve got to love Karma.

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