As I finally drove away, passing the wreckage being loaded onto a tow truck, I caught the van driver’s eye. He shrugged and gave me a half-smile. We both knew the score. Tomorrow, it’ll happen again. Maybe to a different car, maybe in a different lane. But the Old Kent Road will keep rolling, and we’ll keep rubbernecking, sipping our coffee, and secretly hoping for a story to tell.
So, if you’re reading this while stuck in traffic on that very road right now—yes, you—take a deep breath. Put down the phone. And maybe keep a pack of cards in your glovebox. You never know when you’ll need a round of poker with a stranger.
