What is his problem!?

I used to be such a nice girl. Quiet and reserved and all.

But there is this guy who has annoyed me for the last 10 years. He lives two streets away and I pass his house when I come home. He lives at the bottom of a hill, two houses from the corner.

If I was to meet this guy on the street, without prior experience, I’d think he was a fairly normal man. He’s fit and dresses very well, an executive type. Bright and intelligent eyes, impeccably groomed, and tanned most of the year. But he has some issues.

I don’t have enough fingers and toes or hairs in my head to count the number of times that I’ve driven past his house while he’s been out walking his little fuzz ball dogs. He pulls them to the side and huddles over them as if I was going to plow into them all. And then he raises one hand, like a traffic cop, and urges me to slow down. With a little pouty face of disapproval. Every Single Time.

The speed limit on the street is 30 miles per hour. However, one tends to decelerate as one approaches an intersection with a stop sign. As his house is only 100 feet from the stop sign, there are probably very few people who fly past his house at the legal speed limit only to slam on the brakes for a tire screeching stop. It would, in fact, be rather difficult to do given the steep angle of the hill.

Last summer during our week-long Homecoming Festival, I happened to roll down the hill just as the 5k racers were passing at the end of the street. There were some grandmas sitting across the end of the street in lawn chairs, watching the runners go by. I maneuvered carefully to a stop to wait for the race to end. Just before I rolled to a stop, I noticed him standing on the corner with his arms folded across his chest and he noticed me at the same time. Instantly he strode into the street toward me and waved both palms, urging me to stop, with that frowny disapproving face he always gives me. Did he really think I was going to take out the ladies in their lawn chairs and a few runners too? I wanted to get out of the car and give him a good whack for his imperious air.

Early last evening, I returned home from an outing and there he was out walking his dogs. I glanced at my speedometer and it said 14 mph, which is, you know, a conservative speed when one is on imminent street corner approach.

This time he pulled his overcoat away from his body and huddled over to hold it around his dogs. He waved a hand at me to indicate that I should slow down. And that was it. The last straw. I threw the car in neutral, yanked on the emergency brake, and jumped out.

“What is your problem?” I demanded.

“You were going too fast,” he said.

“I was going 14 miles an hour,” I yelled.

“That’s too fast,” he insisted.

“If I go any slower I’ll have to be towed to the corner. Just stop it. Don’t raise your hand to me again. Do you understand?”

“You scare my dogs,” he said.

“They don’t look scared to me,” I said, noting their wagging tails. In fact, they were trying to sniff my legs, probably smelling Terry. I gave one an ear scratch and he just about died with pleasure.

“Do you do this to everybody?” I asked.

“If they’re going too fast, yes,” he said.

“You’re only two houses from the corner. Nobody is speeding by your house. And your dogs aren’t scared. Stop doing it. Just Stop It.”

“I don’t want my dogs to get hit.” he said.

“I’m not going to hit your dogs,” I said. “I see you and your dogs. I make it a point to drive slowly down your street. You convinced me a long time ago. I’ve been driving past your house for ten years and I have never even come close to hitting your dogs. I’m...Not...Going...To...Hit...Them. Don’t raise your hand to me again.”

“You go too fast. Just slow down, okay?” he said.

“You are dense.” I yelled.

Got back in my car and peeled to a screeching stop at the corner. Nothing like vindicating his concerns.

He has given my temper such a workout. And I’m sure he will continue because we didn’t accomplished anything last night other than making us like each other even less than before.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have even considered a confrontation. But I snapped. I really did. Ever since last night I’ve been imagining all the possible ways to drive him ever-lovin’ bonkers. But I think he’s already there, so maybe I should find a new way home. Save us both the wear and tear.