At the traffic light, I glanced in my rear view mirror. Behind me, a rusty blue pickup truck had come to a stop. I remembered the vehicle from the gas station I’d stopped at just a few minutes before. Mostly, I remembered the proliferation of bumper stickers that suggested that the owner had very different political views than I did.
As I waited for the light to turn green, a burly man stepped out of the truck. He approached my car. He was walking right down the yellow line, in the middle of the road, which didn’t make sense. I rolled down my window apprehensively.
But he didn’t come up to my window. Instead, he leaned over as if to open my backdoor. He didn’t even look my way.
I heard a click.
Suddenly I realized what he was doing. He’d screwed on the cap to my gas tank. I guess I’d left it dangling after filling up at the station.
I leaned out and said, “Thank you!”
He looked up and grinned, then gave a wave as he jumped back into his truck. The light turned green.