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Day 1
I was running late this morning and barely made it to the driveway at the top of the hill that was to be my lookout. The van rushed by just as I was backing into position. It was a large, white transport van that was easy to spot. Since this was my second attempt I already knew that the driver was hard to follow. Maybe he recognized me, I am his neighbor, but that would be an amazing achievement. Someone would have to be awfully suspicious to suspect it. And then, to have the desire and skill to avoid it? My dull red Jeep was fairly inconspicuous. A big panel van must be difficult to see out of. I just did not know. I was reminded of the side-swipe compliment "You are smarter than you look." Or is he just more devious? The driver seems to drive as fast as he can and never stops fully at stop signs or when turning on red lights. He is extremely aggressive. It would appear to be the way he drives. Even in the large van… He rolled through the stop sign out of our subdivision and accelerated by me. Did he see me? Another car turned after him and I rushed to follow. At the next stop sign the car in front of the van stopped completely. Then the next car also turning left did the same. I was three cars back. I could barely see the van let alone his tiny mirrors. We all turned left and then right onto the highway. The van accelerated. Its gas mileage must be poor, I thought. It changed lanes and exceeded the speed limit. At the next light I turned right through a small business district while the van continued along the highway bypass. I could see it, about a quarter mile away, as I made my way though the traffic circle and a quick red light. Then, when I merged back onto the highway I could barely see the van up ahead. Ten maybe fifteen miles over the speed limit I struggled to keep it in sight. Almost to the interstate, down the hill and around a bend, I could not see ahead and lost it; if it was not stopped at the traffic light at the Wal-Mart it would be gone. It was so hard to catch up to given that he was always ten miles over the speed limit. But it was there, stopped first at the light. I was three or four cars back. The van was in sight as we merged on I-70 toward Denver. I tried to not drive as I normally did. I told myself this is not a normal situation: I could not drive by rote, unconsciously, or without purpose. I had to pay attention. My senses were heightened to my surroundings, looking front and rear for police, and never losing site of the van. It was invigorating. We were heading east and the van was still in site as we reached the last big mountain before the metro area interchanges. It is a steep grade, with a 55 MPH speed limit, and frequent speeding patrols; cars, trucks, and SUVs often rushed down the hill and changde lanes often. On the right shoulder was an unmarked patrol car. The van was going maybe 65 in the left lane and I was in the right. My attention bounced from the van to the police car to the other traffic. I would not speed up to make up the distance. I lost him. At the final curve approaching Colfax Avenue I made the decision to exit. This is where the van got off last time and my only hope was that it would be stopped at the light again, but down the ramp it was still nowhere to be seen. Last time I followed the van twenty-five miles down Colfax, into the heart of Denver, before losing it; this time there was no point in going further. You had to really rush right on this guy’s tail to stay with him. I knew, if he was out in front, I would never catch up.
The Streetlamp on a nice snowy evening (11-28-04)
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