Being friendly

Today I was driving on a narrow, windy stretch of road, uphill, in heavy traffic. I was in the left lane (it's a four lane road, I'm not suddenly in the UK or anything) and there were construction barrels on my left. I was purposefully hugging the line between myself and the cars on my right because a road crew was working precariously close to those barrels. We're talking young men in neon green shirts inches away from my tires. I figured, in case of emergency swerving, I would rather nick a car than a person. Right? In fact, the car in front of me was doing the same thing.

Apparently someone in the right lane felt encroached upon. He honked and gestured wildly (albeit, not rudely) at both of us as he passed. He then proceeded to speed and weave his way through the remaining traffic. Huck asked, "Was that guy waving at us? Do we know him?" I replied, "No." I figured the no covered the fact that he was not waving at us and that we do not know him. I felt no need to elaborate. Huck then said, "Guess he was being friendly."

You know how you see people driving like that and always wish there was a cop there to see it too? THERE WAS! Dude got pulled over. As we passed I said, "There's our friend, let's wave at him!"

Being friendly never felt so good.