A Good Lunatic

Everything was normal.  Cars were stop and go, aggressive drivers darted between lanes, black exhaust plumes from diesel trucks choked the air.  As usual, afternoon rush hour was getting on my nerves.  In a left turn only lane at a busy intersection, I stopped behind a huge camper where my field of vision was limited to bumper stickers collected on roadtrips.  Music from KBPI drummed out of my speakers when, suddenly, the driver behind me fled from his car and stood in front of a Toyota truck rolling in the oncoming lanes. 

The graying man slammed his hands hard on the hood, belly bouncing off the grill, yelling for the driver to stop as the Toyota continued to creep forward.  He worked his way around to the driver's side where he continued his barrage of striking the hood and windshield while yelling at the driver.