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I was driving south on Pacific Coast Highway, slowing down to a stop light. Suddenly, an SUV on my right swerved into my lane.

I instinctively swerved to my left. Fortunately, there weren't other vehicles next to me. The driver, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, also swerved back to her lane to avoid hitting my car. It was close, but I didn't get hit.

I stared at the driver over my sunglasses. Not a glare, mind you, but more of an I-can't-believe-you-did-that kind of look.

We had eye contact; she looked at me sheepishly. I figured she knew her booboo, so I turned my attention back to the road and moved on when the light turned green.

Not halfway through the next block, she drove next to me, made two short honks and motioned me to roll down my window.

Uh oh, now what? I braced for nasty, but not for what came next.

The lady smiled the sweetest smile. "Excuse me," she said.

"Uhm, Okay," I said lamely, still stunned as she drove on.

And it happened right here. In L.A. During rush hour. On a searing, smoggy afternoon.

Imagine that.