“Yeah, okay, okay,” I agreed without mentioning that I was only okay as long as I didn’t have to get out my car.

Otherwise, I would just call 911 and unfortunately both of us would have to hope the cop didn’t pull out a breathalyzer. Though, I hadn’t picked up a whiff of alcohol coming off the guy and he didn’t appear to be nearly as drunk as his accident and first interaction with me seemed to suggest.

I checked my phone again while the man walked back to his truck. Still no bars. Just emergency calls.

I bit down on my lip again when I saw the man walk back from his truck with what looked to be a crowbar in his grasp. I looked out both windows at the forest all around me and rolled my window back up. Checked the locks. All of them.

The man ducked out of sight and appeared to go to work on my left front wheel. I heard the smashing of his crowbar against metal and winced. Based on my track record, every single guy I had ever met who looked like that man had been able to work on cars, but I hoped the guy knew what he was doing. The last thing I needed was for him to make things even worse.

I took a few moments to calm down a little bit and fully absorb my situation. Something about the whole situation seemed off from the get go. My blood felt a little bit colder and more sober as I sat there looking at the scene through my windshield and the periodic swipe of my windshield wipers. It felt like the initial T-Rex attack scene in Jurassic Park where there was an eerie, quiet calm before disaster was about to strike.