The first duel took place at night in the Sierra foothills on an incredibly winding road I know very, very well. It's six miles of nonstop 25- and 35-mph blind benders and huge elevation losses and gains as it dives into a big river gorge and works its way up the other side. I wasn't speeding, or wanting to speed, because this was deer country and it was already dark, but I was coming up on a short but useable turn lane, and so I downshifted in preparation to pass the couple of pickup trucks doddering along in front of me. The first truck in line swung left as it should while the second passed, but then the second truck didn't yield to let me pass even though there was lots of room. I wasn't happy, of course, and I did give him a little honk to let him know what a dork he'd been. I wish I hadn't. Midway through the next blind corner the idiot flips me off and then slams on his brakes in front of me. The only choice I have on this road leaves me in the oncoming lane (instead of in his bumper). So, once out there in the blind corner and already halfway around him, I continue to pass. And so, the duel begins.