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I left the mystery bag in front of the garage at the address on the envelope I found in it. This morning I got a voicemail from its owner thanking me profusely for going out of my way to return it. How many karma points is that?

Yesterday evening’s commute home was quite amusing. I found a leather bag in the middle of the road leaving work. You’d think that the owner of such an expensive bag filled with medical course notes and textbooks would at least tag it with their contact information. No such luck. Not even a name written on any of the note pages.

After rooting through this poor soul’s belongings and stale granola bars, I finally found a single envelope that had an address on it right up the street. I stopped by last night and this morning but no one was home. Since I couldn’t verify that the bag belonged to that address I didn’t want to just leave it on the step. I’ll try again this evening and leave a note.

As if finding the bag wasn’t exciting enough, I then witnessed a flatbed semi truck shuck the side of an early nineties luxury sedan at junction 95 and 93 in Woburn. The car was in the middle lane. The trucker lazily flipped on his directional and meticulously changed lanes right into the sedan. Rear trailer tires tend to do a very good job of removing every single piece of plastic from the side of a car.

Chunks of car and trailer bounced off my hood and skid plates, the car slammed to a halt in the center lane of 95 North and the truck just kept right on going. I chased down the truck and flashed him with my high beams. No response. I honked. No response. I flew by him, put on my hazards, pulled in front of him, slowed down, motioned to the breakdown lane, pulled into the breakdown lane and he accelerated as he passed me.

Finally I armed my Hella driving beams, got back behind him, and flashed him repeatedly while weaving back and forth and pulled into the breakdown lane. He finally got the hint, pulled over and came to a stop. Shortly thereafter, the guy he hit rolled up to the scene and parked in front of the semi.

911. Busy signal. 911. Got hung up on. 911. Busy signal. 911. “Don’t bother us if there are no injuries, just exchange papers.” The quote of the evening from the trucker was “I dun even remember hittin’ you an’ din’t feel nuttn’”. A close second was “a lil’ rubbn’ compound l’ take that right out”. I gave my name, address and phone number and will probably have to fill out some paperwork.

Feh. At least there was some cause for concern.