We were traveling along Route 10 on the way to Phoenix on a trip to break in our new fifth-wheel RV. The three kids – all under 12 – were much happier riding in the new RV than being crammed in the back seat of our six-passenger sedan, where they never agreed on anything but lunch stops.
As we drove, I noticed that my husband, George, kept glancing in the rearview mirror. "What's that guy behind us doing? He's speeding up like he's going to pass us, and then he slows down. It looks like he's checking us out."
Was George feeling pride in our vehicle or concern for our safety? Were they hijackers? I wondered, knowing our new rig was the most desirable on the freeway.
"Blast 'em," George growled.
I picked up the intercom phone and called our eldest son, John, in the back. "Can you see the driver behind us? Dad says he starts to pass us, and then he slows."
Suddenly, we heard a "toot, toot." A Mercedes pulled around and passed us. Inside the car, its passengers were waving and laughing.
"What's going on back there?" I asked, still on the phone.
"Jim and Greg are doing a puppet show in the back window," he answered. "Elmo went down for the count and Big Bird bowed to the people in the Mercedes."