“Oh!! Mom…mom. Check this out!” I accelerated slightly to catch up with the white Sierra next to me. “To your right,” I said giggling, directing mom to the truck, and the driver.

He looks back at us, does a double take, as all of us start to laugh , caught in the act.  He pulls in front slightly , glancing at me, teasing me to speed up. I play along. We each cruise along with the flow of midweek evening 401 traffic, each time, laughing as we pass one another. 

A few kilometres later, truck traffic sends him from the centre lane to the left, behind me. I move over next.  When he again passes , now on my opposite side, I see he has two friends with him. The game continues with the guys in the white truck for a few more minutes when the passenger window opens. I follow suit. Everyone waves, and the driver blows kisses.

By now everyone is laughing, especially my mom from the passenger seat as she marvels at how she rarely even looks at cars around her and I’ve been flirting for several kilometres.  I’m listening, and focusing on the road, as “Team white Sierra” catch my attention again. Now, the rear passenger window is down, and a young man is reaching out the vehicle waving, with a piece of paper between his fingers. 

I shook my head with my best “you’re insane” face.. But three guys in a truck are now cheering me on… this is not a challenge you walk away from (especially not when you know you will write about it!)

Carefully, I accelerate, inching closer, holding my breath and the wheel.

I reach… I grab.

I steer back into my own lane.

I breathe, and to my right , I toss: a fuel receipt folded six times over, with a phone number written in marker; my prize for ‘skilled’ driving, determination, and a bit of crazy!

We took the next exit to the 403, as our new friends continued east. The laughing lasted all the way home and well into dinner: 

“This gives speed dating a whole new meaning!! Like 120km/hr.”

We debriefed and wondered – what was the conversation like in the white truck? Whose idea it was to write the number, how did they decide who should hang out the window?  I wonder who I’ll be in their story, and if they will talk about the highway handoff with “The Girls in the Black Truck.”