Whitaker explains why you should think twice before tailgating anyone who might be named Zeke.

We all have things or experiences that gross us out and we react to them with varying degrees of disgust. These little idiosyncracies are part of what make us unique individuals. They are not however, typically among the myriad of personal traits that we like to expose to the public at large. We tend to reserve that information for close friends and family members.

But there are times when our "gross out buttons" are pushed in public and we have no choice but to react. I was faced with that dilemma recently and it was none too pleasant, let me tell you.

Now, I have a problem in general with bodily fluids. Or should I say human bodily fluids. Why is that, anyway? Can anyone explain to me how it is that I can hold Phydeaux in my arms while she purges herself of all the grass, pebbles, carpet fuzz and twist ties that she's scarfed up in the course of an average day; but I can't be in the same room with a baby when it blows nose bubbles?? Was I frightened by an exceptionally large nose bubble as a child? It's beyond my comprehension.

But the worst, the absolute worst.... is spit. What in the world compels an individual to INTENTIONALLY launch their saliva out into the world? I'm not particularly well traveled, never been out of the South for that matter (which may be part of the problem) so would someone please tell me if spitting is a universal affliction?

I may be old fashioned but I believe that anything that originates in the body should remain in the body or at most, only be shared with your significant other. But today a complete and total stranger shared his bodily fluid with me. I will never be the same. I can still close my eyes and revisit the entire experience in gag-reflexing detail.

I was on my way to work when I found myself behind a slow moving rattletrap pickup. It was so stereotypical I actually laughed out loud. Confederate flag, muffler suspended by a coathanger, beer cans in the bed and no tailgate. I couldn't tell much about the driver but wouldn't have been surprised if his name was Zeke. He was moving at a snail's pace and I was getting frustrated and tailgating him (can you tailgate someone that doesn't have a tailgate?). He kept looking in his rearview mirror so I thought he'd get the message. Suddenly, in a burst of blue oil haze, he floored it. I was thrilled and rushed to catch up. And then it happened, his head slowly rotated to the left; he pulled his forehead back like a slingshot and then snapped it forward. It seemed to take an eternity to reach my windshield but when it did it was worse than the biggest bug that ever lived. Before my vision was completely blurred I saw Zeke throw his head back and cackle while saluting me with his middle finger.

I would have given in to my road rage except I knew without a shadow of a doubt - that man had an unlimited supply of ammunition.

Copyright C. P. Whitaker 2001