“Just follow me.”  What comforting words.  But deceptively so at times.  Sure, people mean well: they’re sincere about wanting to assist in getting you there.  But they just can’t help themselves; they find it hard to change the way they drive.

Once entering into such a pact, you’re completely at their mercy, totally dependent on them to lead the way.  No wonder you’re anxious.  Without them you are lost.  So you note the license plate and take a mental snapshot of their car.  And you tell yourself to make sure to follow close behind, not let them out of your sight.

But then without warning this guy takes off as if driving a getaway car.  You’re forced to chase after him, and to wonder what in the world he’s doing.  Whatever it is, you’ve got to make sure you don’t lose him, and that no other car gets between the two of you.  That means staying close, taking chances, and repeatedly asking yourself why you ever agreed to this arrangement.

The light up ahead is about to turn red, but he doesn’t stop.  So you’ve no choice but to run through it and hope there are no cops around.  Why couldn’t he have waited?  Soon after he’s going through another light, but this time you don’t.  And now you’re frantic.  Thank God, though, he realizes you’ve been separated and pulls over and is waiting for you down the road.  Mighty considerate of him.

In no time, however, he’s back to his old tricks — changing lanes, forgetting to signal before turning, and driving as if possessed.  Meanwhile you’ve become a nervous wreck accepting risks you’d never take just to keep him in sight.

Finally you arrive, the ordeal over.  You’re exhausted, but grateful to be alive.  He, of course, is quite pleased with himself for having been so accommodating and gotten you there.  “Now that was easy enough, wasn’t it?”  You’re tempted to differ, but decide otherwise.  “Yeah, no problem.”

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