The Shelby GT350 came up behind me far too quickly. I could see its menacing grille approaching in my mirror, and I briefly thought it might hit me. The driver swerved at the last moment into the adjacent left turn lane and stopped at the red light.
The orange car with black racing stripes idled just ahead, immediately followed by, what are the odds, another orange GT350 with black racing stripes.
The two identical cars revved their engines in some sort of brotherly bond, but I wondered if that first dude felt instantly unimportant, and I imagined the second dude feeling like a girl at a party wearing the same dress as a stranger.
I wondered if they knew each other or if it was a crazy random happenstance. Either way, it wasn’t good.