Just Weird

I just got home from a run down town. Finally got the paint to finish the bedroom --- now the success of the paint on the walls will be a different story. Maybe tomorrow. (At this point I break into Tomorrow from Annie) But that isn't this tale.

I'm tooling toward my house in the convertible -- top down, radio on. As I turn the corner toward home I notice this beat up car behind me. Now I try not to be paranoid about such things --- there are a lot of beat up cars out there. But as I get to the house I push the button for the garage door to go up and slow down to go around the trash can that was unceremoniously left upside down and well out toward the middle of the street. I whip on into the garage and the car that was behind me dodges my trash can (thank you) then speeds off looking my way. That creepy feeling you get sometimes when things aren't just right arrived.
As I walk back down the drive to retrieve the abused trash receptacle the car which had turned around at the corner pulls up and stops. I glance over at the neighbors house to see that Thomas is still out mowing --- if I need him he's close. "Ma'am can you tell me how to get to Beltway 8," asked the rather scruffy looking man in a voice that was hard to tell if it was just broken English or liquor slurred --- maybe both. I was taken aback by this question. For those not in the know I'm 90 miles from Beltway 8 --- Beltway 8 is in Houston!
My reply to him was that, "Beltway 8 is in Houston."
Now his next question leads me to think he is intoxicated, "Well, where am I?"
I told him and I also told him how to get headed towards Houston. Now as I write this, I'm thinking I probably should have paid closer attention to the car, gotten a tag number and called the police. Instead, I just came in the house, closed the garage door and made sure my house doors are locked. Beltway 8? (sigh, head shake)