I'm speeding south on Highway 178 when a red sports car comes speeding up behind me. It continues to get very close and then backs away. "What the hell is his problem?" I thought. "I'm doing 5 over the speed limit. Surely that's enough?!" It must belong to the disconnected phobia category that I invented earlier. I laugh to myself, what a silly word. I can't wait to tell my husband about it. He always torments me because I'm on the phone. I turn on the right indicator and steer into the slow lane. As he speeds past me, I see both hands on his phone and his knees holding the steering wheel! My blood starts to boil. How can someone be so selfish? What on earth could be so important that you would risk your life and that of others? At the next red light I pull up next to her, honk and she looks up for just a moment. She is clearly embarrassed; her cute green eyes become as big as fluffy balls! His pale complexion turns as red as a cherry. Then he puts the phone down and smiles at me. He doesn't look my way anymore. Off we go, about 5 miles down the road I pass through the intersection of the road line and Orchard Street when I see the little red sports car again. This time he's going miles under the speed limit. He is swerving, from the white line to the yellow line and vice versa. Oh no, is he really at it again? I think to myself, “Should I call 911?” I can't help but think of my little one swimming in my stomach. I would like