Fingers did the talking

I’m tipping the scale at 220 pounds. It causes me to snore at night, the kids worry about my health, and my pants are too snug. So on Saturday, I caved in to my wife’s urging that I join her on her routine walk up and down Rio Rico Drive.

God bless her healthy little soul; I know she didn’t go her usual brisk gait. I felt like the dummy whose teacher has to slow down her speech so he can understand. It was hard on my ego, and I panted and wheezed with every step.

On our way down, we had our backs to the oncoming vehicles, which is not a good idea on any road. Nevertheless we were conscious of the cars coming behind us and if they were speeding or slowing down.

At one point, I heard a vehicle traveling toward us at what sounded like an unreasonable velocity. In the two decades we’ve lived on Rio Rico Drive, we’ve seen a few mishaps when drivers fail to respect road conditions, including a delivery truck that flew off a ravine and a BMW full of kids that skidded and landed upside down 100 yards from our house.

So I got a little nervous and turned back to signal the driver to slow down as he came upon us on a curve. He did so suddenly, as if somewhat startled.

But then, as he drove next to us, he gunned his vehicle, and buddy, he floored me. I went into primordial mode and whipped out the middle finger faster than Quick Draw McGraw.

He must have been checking in his mirror because he suddenly slowed down and stopped. I rushed up to the driver’s side to have a word with this joker. For a fleeting moment I was filled with a sense of awkwardness. The driver turned out to be a high school classmate. He seemed unfazed, though, perhaps not recognizing me due to my gray “highlights” and bulk that I have accumulated over the years. (Damn it. He looked just like he did in high school).

Anyway, he proceeded to scold me that no one has to tell him to slow down when pedestrians are on the road. The ensuing exchange was not pleasant. Finally, he drove off but not without setting in flight his own bird of paradise. Nice.

I realized then it was all a dumb caveman thing. I half expected my wife to grab me by the shoulders and slowly enunciate: “Can you say, ‘anger management?’”

When Sunday morning came along, she didn’t invite me for a walk.

(Write us at 268 W. View Point Dr., or manuel.coppola@nogalesinternational.com.)