There are three basic reactions to a touch: Move away, get closer or freeze. Usually, you'll get a mixture of reactions. Sometimes all in the space of a few minutes. But lately, everything is running away from me.

I've looked for outward reasons for this. A mysterious but conspicuous tattoo saying, "Get away from this man," is not present. Maybe there's a stink I can't smell. Or some kind of weird aura I can't see. And, possibly, when others look in my eyes, there is something there--flickering in the back and causing revulsion or fear. I don't know what it is, but everything is running away.

It's not such a bad thing at times.

I pulled out of the liquor store parking lot--quickly because a large white truck was speeding toward me. I'd been sitting, waiting for an opening for a while. I knew I'd make it--there was certainly enough room. But the truck started honking at me fifty feet before he got to where I was crossing. I was through his side of the road before he made it there, but he kept honking anyway. I made a hand gesture that was something between a wave and a flip off and drove off.

In the rearview mirror, I saw the truck stop traffic to make a u-turn in the middle of the road. In a half minute or so, the truck was behind me. I stopped, let the truck cut me off and put my car in park.

What was going to happen here?

A few weeks ago on Central in front of the university, a pedestrian yelled and then pulled a gun on a truck that almost ran him over. The pedestrian walked into a newsstand after this. The truck pulled over, and the driver followed the walker into the store.

An argument ensued.

The driver of the truck was shot a couple of times.

I think the notion of pre-emptive strikes has infested the general public's consciousness. We don't have to talk out our differences, we have to fight them out. We have a horrible example of this from the President. "Don't back down" is the name of the game. Get them before they get you.

The guy got out of his truck, and I was instantly relieved he wasn't carrying a gun. I'd had my hand out in a wave since before he pulled around me and cut me off. I'd been saying, "I'm sorry," as he got out of his truck. His girlfriend jumped out, too. But she wasn't saying anything. I'm not sure if she wanted him to fight or back off. She wasn't really encouraging either side.

I was not without options. I could have backed up and tried to drive away. But I wasn't in the mood for a chase. I had a bag full of bottles of liquor. A couple of champagne bottles (best for hand to hand combat because the glass is very thick) and whiskey (not as good, but not bad). The bottles were a last resort.

I kept my hands up, but I stared at him as he came at me. He began to calm down as he got closer. He made a slight movement indicating a swing, and I made a slight movement back inside the car window.

And then he stopped.

Maybe he wanted me to attack him, giving him a reason to fight. Or maybe he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to try to pull me out of a car to fight--it was probably hard to tell how big I was. Or maybe he just wanted to make a point.

He turned around and said something about watching how I was driving as he walked back to his truck. I let them get back in their truck, turn around and go back the way they came.

On the way back home, I cut off three more cars at the same distance I cut the truck off. None of them honked or chased me down for a fight.

There's something about me right now. Not even this guy--who was so pissed off about my driving he felt the need to hunt me down--wanted to touch me.

Maybe I need new deodorant.

Matt Worley is an aggressive driver.