He didn't live there on his own for long.
On the way home, we were on Hwy. 101 skirting the Hood Canal, which is actually just a narrowing-extension of Puget Sound, and in no way canal-like. A curvy, two-lane road, and as we approached a narrow bridge in a no-passing double-yellow line zone, traffic on-coming, and doing the speed limit of 55 mph, some loon in a VW Jetta passed us.
Two seconds slower, we would have been dodging shrapnel and wounded vehicles, and if you know the three-second rule when following somebody, you know how close that was.
I uttered an expletive or three. So did my wife.
If you've never felt road rage, let me explain how it goes: I wanted to catch the idiot in the VW, who was probably high or stupid or both, cut him off, remove him from his vehicle via the driver's side window, and then whack him against the ground like the Hulk did Loki.
I mean, I really did.
If you want to jump off a bridge or eat an overdose or shoot yourself, that's your right. But you don't get to take anybody with you, especially me and my family.
I didn't chase the guy down. Aside from that being hard to do in an RV on a curvy road, that would have been illegal, and I am a good citizen these days. Still, it was one of those adrenaline-fueled moments I could have done without, thank you ...