Handcuffs Hidden In Baby Pink

After three straight years working through the holidaysChristmas, New Years, EasterI finally had the time off. I was driving my trusty, pink car home for the break.

On the highway, there was this one male driver, an absolute pest.

Seeing a woman at the wheel of a bright pink vehicle, he started deliberately tailgating, then cutting me off, then tailgating again. It was a calculated form of intimidation.

I didn't get angry, and I certainly didn't engage in a shouting match.

I just stayed behind him until we reached the service plaza, where I quietly slipped on a yellow reflective vest.

I grabbed my handcuffs, stepped out, and walked over to the smug asshole who was standing beside his car.

His face went from triumphant to sheet-white in an instant. I allowed myself a cold smile.

You just volunteered me for overtime, buddy. And you're not going home. You're coming police station with me.

1.

It was the day before the holiday, and the line for the toll booths stretched back for miles.

Cars were bumper-to-bumper, moving slower than a snail race.

I was behind a dark SUV, with that white sedanlets call the driver Dustinright on my bumper.

At first, I barely noticed. I was used to heavy traffic.

Then he laid on his horn three times.

BEEPBEEPBEEP!

The sound was sharp and grating under the metal roof of the toll plaza.

I instinctively checked the rearview mirror.

The white sedans hood was practically kissing my rear bumper. The distance was exaggeratedly close, aggressive.

My professional instinct was to frown, but it was the holidays, and I wasn't looking for trouble. To create space, I nudged forward a few feet.

He stopped for a second, then, seeing I didn't move more, he hit the horn again.

The noise drew annoyed glances and complaints from surrounding drivers.

What the hell is going on? Why is that horn blowing nonstop?

I dont know, but the traffic is bad enough!

Hey, just let the guy through! Hurry up, whatever is holding us up!

Even the toll attendant glanced up.

I frowned, a slow burn of resentment starting in my chest. Where am I supposed to go? It wasnt like I was the only one in line.

I decided to ignore him, turning up the satellite radio.

Outside my window, holiday lights were strung up along the fence lines, and the radio was playing festive, upbeat music. But the pit in my stomach was growing.

This was the first time Id been home in three years. My job was structured so that the busiest times always fell over the major holidays. This year, new hires meant we veterans finally got a break, and I was desperate to get home.

Spring traffic was already a nightmare, and this aggressive prick behind me was making it worse. I forced myself to take a breath, focusing only on getting through the toll booth.

The honking finally stopped, muffled by the rising chorus of complaints from the other drivers. Maybe Dustin realized he was only drawing negative attention to himself. He seemed to grudgingly suppress his rage.

The line inches forward.

The toll light was green, and I slowly coasted to the window. I pulled up the digital toll pass on my phone.

And then, the system lagged.

The payment page spun, stuck on a loading screen. Nothing happened.

I tapped the screen again. Still nothing.

The toll attendant glanced at me. Holiday traffic, signal gets slow, don't worry about it.

I nodded, about to refresh my data connection.

But that small pause was all the excuse Dustin needed.

In the rearview mirror, the white sedan instantly glued itself to my bumper again. Zero space.

The horn blared, sharp and aggressive.

BEEP!

It wasn't a prolonged drag, but a series of short, frantic jabsintentionally directed at me.

I kept my head down, focusing on my phone.

This brief hold-up seemed to ignite the collective frustration of the drivers around me. But this time, they aimed it at me.

What is the delay up there? How long does it take to pay a toll? Get moving!

Can you hurry up? People are waiting!

If you cant operate the machine, pull over! Don't hog the lane!

The voices came from all directions. Dustins horn kept sounding.

The toll attendant frowned, leaning out to look back at the line.

Stop with the honking! Shes having a network issue, he called out. Then to me: Dont worry, Ill handle it.

I handed him my phone. He fiddled with it, and finally, the network connected. The successful payment chime sounded.

I sighed in relief, ready to hit the gas.

The horn behind me immediately sounded again.

The attendants face darkened. He shouted back at the white sedan: Last warning! Maintain order, or Im calling highway patrol!

The noise stopped instantly.

I nodded my thanks and pulled away.

Just past the gate, before I could accelerate to highway speed, a flash of white shot out from the left.

The white sedan flooring it, swerving around me without signaling, cutting me off aggressively.

I slammed on the brakes. My car lurched. The seatbelt locked tight across my chest, digging in painfully.

Dustins car was now settled directly in front of me, straddling the lane lines.

2.

He kept his speed agonizingly low.

My speedometer needle barely climbed before he slammed his brakes again, forcing me back down.

I had to drop my speed. The cars behind me started blaring their horns.

The first was a gray van. I saw the driver lean out his window and shout a swear word, clearly looking for the culprit.

But when his eyes found my pink car, his voice cut off.

He shook his head, pulled back into his car, and immediately increased the distance between us. The anger hadn't vanished, but its target had settled.

The white sedan, Dustin, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in this. He accelerated for a moment, then abruptly let off the gas. His car wobbled but settled firmly, blocking my path.

I swallowed my frustration and tried to signal a lane change.

He caught it instantly. As soon as my car drifted, he shifted too.

His speed wasn't fast, but his movements were preciselike he was staring right at me.

Traffic in the other lanes moved normally, but our lane was a slow-motion catastrophe.

Drivers who were annoyed enough to pass sped up beside me. One driver yelled:

Can you just get off the highway if you can't drive, or what? Stop blocking the damn entrance!

He didn't bother to check the facts and sped off.

Hearing the public insult, the drivers window of the white sedan rolled down halfway.

Dustin stuck his hand out, drummed his fingers on the door, and then flipped me off.

His eyes were full of blatant, malicious satisfaction.

I took a deep breath. Given we were still near the on-ramp, I increased the distance between us slightly. This kind of cat-and-mouse game on the highway was dangerous for everyone.

But the male driver clearly wasnt done.

A few minutes later, he braked hard again, dropping to barely thirty miles an hour.

The drivers behind me were furious. Horns were sounding in a continuous stream.

What the hell is the hold-up? This is a highway, not a side street! Were going thirty miles an hour!

That stupid woman is dragging ass! Get off the road if you can't handle a highway!

A passing driver leaned out his window and started screaming.

What is with that sickening pink? And a woman driver? Pure road killer!

If you don't care about your life, we do! Stop causing this backup!

The shouts weren't loud, but every word cut through the air.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

I didn't respond. I looked up at the dashcam.

The red light was on, the mic was active. Everything was recording.

I scanned the overhead signage. Ten miles to the next service plaza.

I finally had a clear idea.

As the white car continued its pattern of bullying me, I tapped the brake lightly. My hood dipped.

The car behind mea large pickuphad to slam on his brakes, the screech dragging along the asphalt.

Luckily, my previous low speed meant everyone was already cautious.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. As Dustins car slid a few feet ahead of me, I didnt immediately try to pass or speed up.

I waited for the cars behind me to reposition, then slowly brought my speed back up.

My gaze was on the upcoming sign. The service plaza logo was getting closer.

Confirming the direction, I opened my cars navigation app.

I located the blue symbol and pressed a speed-dial number on my phone.

The call connected quickly.

Metro East Precinct. How can I help you?

Kenji, its me.

My voice was steady.

Are you guys running the patrol detail on the East Loop today?

A beat of silence. Stella? Whats going on? Why are you calling? Youre on vacation.

I have a situation. Aggravated reckless driving on the highwayserious public safety risk. Im going to lead him into the next service plaza. I need you guys to pre-stage some units there.

I heard a muffled flurry of movement on the other end.

Understood, Stella. You keep your distance and stay safe. Im dispatching two cars now.

Thanks, Kenji. I owe you.

I hung up, flicked on my signal.

The direction wasn't for the homebound lane. It was for the service plaza exit ramp.

3.

My hood drifted toward the service plaza ramp.

Dustin, who had been deliberately pacing me, noticed immediately. He hesitated for two seconds, realizing I was no longer following the main highway traffic.

Then, he signaled, too.

He followed.

I remained calm, my only immediate focus on keeping a safe distance from the surrounding traffic.

I also kept making small feints, small movements that suggested I was about to speed past him.

That kind of bully is terrified of losing control. I gave him a chance to continue his harassment, and he didn't pass it up.

The white sedan suddenly veered left, trying to get ahead.

I anticipated it, a slight correction of the steering wheel, keeping my position within the legal lane lines.

His driving wasn't good enough. He couldn't get around and was forced to drop his speed with me.

The sudden slow-down threw the following traffic into chaos.

Screeching brakes sounded again. Drivers started yelling at the white sedan.

What are you doing? Cutting people off on the highway?

I almost rear-ended you! If you want to harass a female driver, go to the city! Dont risk my life on the freeway!

Dustin rolled his window down and yelled something back. The words were lost to the wind, but the furious expression made the content clear.

I used the momentary distraction to create distance and smoothly enter the exit ramp.

The service plaza ramp was narrower than the main highway, and the speed limit was much lower.

Perfect.

If Dustin wanted to continue his outburst, he had to follow.

He probably thought I was running away, trying to wait him out until he left.

His impatience took over. He crossed the line and drove right up my bumper again.

His hood was inches from my tail.

The drivers behind him were appalled. One rolled down his window.

Hey, white sedan! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Slow down!

Is that guy using us as speed bumps?!

Dustin ignored them. He even floored the gas for a second, attempting to pass me on the right.

But the ramp was curved, and there was a guardrail.

His technique was poor; his previous success was due only to my deliberate avoidance and the natural caution of others on the highway.

He had to slam the brakes and pull back in.

His car swayed violently from side to side, then settled. No accident.

The swaying gave the trailing drivers a clear view.

Some started to realize their previous anger was misdirected.

What is wrong with that white car? His driving is atrocious, who taught him that?

He was doing the same thing back on the main road! I thought that girl in the pink car was the problem

Well, she is a woman driver. Who told her to get on the road and upset people?

The arguments and murmurs traveled between the cars, but this time, it wasn't a unanimous attack on me.

I still didn't look back.

My focus remained fixed on the road ahead. I knew that a single misstep now would ruin everything.

The service plaza sign appeared.

I activated my right turn signal.

The white sedan practically followed me into the parking lot.

There were speed bumps at the entrance.

I slowed down.

Dustin didn't anticipate it. His car dipped hard, and he had to jam his foot on the brake. The tires let out a muffled groan.

The drivers behind him exploded in rage.

Are you kidding me? You cant slow down for the speed bumps in a rest area?!

So many people are here! Are you trying to kill us?

Someone pulled out their phone and started recording.

Dustin was getting desperate. He fully lowered his window.

Its none of your damn business! If that woman wasnt blocking me, I wouldnt be doing this!

He shouted back at them, then glared at my car. His eyes were burning.

I ignored him, slowly pulling into the service plaza.

I was actually faster than the white car once we were off the highway. He was clearly surprised by how abruptly I stopped.

His car swerved slightly in front of me, then he cranked the wheel.

He stopped, tight against my door.

The drivers door was violently shoved open. SLAM.

A tall man, red-faced and furious, stepped out.

4.

I remained in my car for a moment.

I rolled the window all the way up and pulled the privacy screen across the front windshield.

Then, ignoring the shouting man outside, I turned and reached into the back seat for my gear.