It’s Official.

I’m cute.

At least, that’s what one young man told me last night, right before he hit on me.

Wait, what? [Yeah, that was my reaction, too.]

Here’s the story:

I stopped for dinner in Rancho Cucamonga (or someplace nearby – I don’t know for sure) last night on the way home from Sacramento / Roseville. After I finished my meal, I got back on the I-210 freeway toward home. After a point, it becomes CA-210, which eventually merges with I-10. I was about 4 – 5 miles before the 210 / 10 interchange when I noticed a large (5- or 7-series) BMW pacing me in the next lane. I thought it was a bit strange, but didn’t pay a whole lot of attention until I suddenly had to slow down to avoid running into the car in front of me – and the BMW slowed down, too!

Well, this was just a tad dangerous, in my opinion, because we were taking up 2 lanes of the road and we weren’t the fastest people. And it was obvious that the car’s driver was paying attention to me instead of his driving. So I moved right, and so did the BMW. I made several other maneuvers as well, and the car stayed right with me. A couple of times I looked at the other car, only to find its driver looking at me. Mostly I just kept driving as safely as I could with a car glued beside me.

This continued on after we merged onto I-10, through several braking / accelerating / lane change maneuvers. I was sort of trying to get away from the car, but also trying to drive safely while at the same time make good time toward home (this was about 7:30 last night and I had about 8 hours to go). As it got darker, the other driver turned on his dome light so I could see him better. (I didn’t turn mine on.) He kept looking at me.

After about 25 or 30 miles of this, I decided I’d had enough, so I moved to the right lane (he was in the next lane over) and took the next exit. He abruptly slowed and exited right behind me, and followed me down the ramp. I was going to just cross the street and stop beside the on-ramp to find out what was going on, but I saw a gas station a little way down the street so I headed for that, instead. After a short hesitation, the Beemer followed me.

I pulled into the gas station, parked under some lights but away from the pumps, and parked. He pulled in on the other side of the pumps and stopped, also under lights. I got out and held my hands out so he could see I wasn’t dangerous, and walked toward his car. He put his window down and we looked at each other.

It took me a bit to realize what he was saying – it was noisy outside, he was talking quietly, and he had some sort of accent – but eventually I figured out that he had thought I was someone he knew, and he was trying to get “my” attention. As he was explaining this to me, he suddenly stopped, took a good look at me, and interrupted himself by saying, in essence, “Hey, you’re cute. Do you want to go somewhere quick, and …” at which point I interrupted him and said I had to get home to my kids in Tucson.

So he nodded, put up his window, and left. I got back in the truck, sat for a moment to come back to reality, and then continued my way home.

So know you (and I) know: According to at least one young man, I’m officially cute.

One Comment on “It’s Official.

  1. Having spent many years in competitive ballroom dancing, I’ve been hit on many times by people of my own gender in whom I had not the least interest. Life’s weird that way.

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