A close shave

Despite the fact that the day dawned glorious and only became more so as the sun rose higher into the clear blue sky, I took the car to work today. I had errands to run during the day and on the way home from work, so pushing pedals from one end of the city to the other just wasn't going to cut it.

Still, I made the best of it. I slid open the sunroof, found my favorite set of tunes on the media player and set off. I was having a lovely, reflective drive until I got to a stretch of a near-rural two-lane road that, oddly on this day, was backed up with traffic. As I slowed down and joined the vehicular equivalent of a conga line, I peeked a little more closely into my rearview mirror to make sure the guy behind me was doing the same. Thankfully, he was, so I settled into the routine of driving slower than the average cyclist.

After a couple of minutes, it became apparent we'd be here for a bit longer. The GPS still showed 2 km to the turnoff, and this being the middle of nowhere on the way to the airport, I had nowhere else to turn. I looked in the rearview again, and something looked funny. The guy - now clearly identified as a middle-aged, shades-wearing man with thinning hair - was peering longingly into his passenger seat. He was alone in the car, so clearly he was eyeing something on the seat that had little to do with piloting his vehicle. My spidey senses began to tingle as he seemingly reached across for something.

Sure enough, the driver of the circa 1998 sandy-green Chevrolet Malibu soon had something in his hand, which he proceeded to rub up and down his face and neck. Yes, folks, he was shaving while creeping through traffic.

Now, I realize it isn't my place to impose my will on total strangers. But considering he was piloting a vehicle that could potentially emboss the Chevy bowtie into my rear bumper during the critical transition between the adam's apple and the chin, I took exception to his little display of multitasking. I watched him closely to ensure he stayed sufficiently far back, and after a few stop-and-almost-no-go cycles, I realized he simply wasn't up to the task.

So I stopped. And I waited. The cars in front of me slowly moved forward, opening up the distance between us, as Malibu Man continued his quest for silky facial smoothness. I waited some more. He had no idea. I continued to wait. He continued to electrically obliterate his facial hair, completely oblivious to what I was doing. I briefly entertained getting out of my car and knocking quietly on his window to ask if he wanted me to hold a mirror for him, but then thought better of it. As funny as it would have been - and make no mistake, I would have laughed for days at the memory of the experience - the safety risk just didn't seem worth it.

After what seemed like an age but was likely more like 90 seconds, he looked ahead and realized what I was up to. He didn't honk - stupid-guilt, perhaps? - as I dropped the car back into drive and eased back into line.

I hope his colleagues appreciated his dedication to personal grooming.

Your turn: The strange things you've seen while driving. Please discuss.