A rattled roadster staggered into JCSO’s mountain substation to report a hair-raising “Dennis Weaver moment.” On her way into town from Mountain Park Road, she’d stopped at the Little Cub Creek intersection, carefully scanned both directions for oncoming traffic, seen none, and blithely turned down the creek toward Evergreen. In the blink of an eye her rearview mirror was filled with the snarling grill of an angry silver Chevy that rode her tailpipe closer than stink on a skunk all the way down the canyon to County Road 73. As both waited for highway traffic to clear, the impatient polecat leapt from his vehicle and tried her door. Finding it locked, he made like he’d break open her driver-side window with his fist and demanded she “open this door and get out of the car.” As luck would have it, she had her dad on the cell phone but told Ricky Roadrage she was talking with JCSO, which seemed to cool his jets, but only a little. He crowded her six tighter than new bicycle shorts until she peeled off at the mountain substation, then sped off toward Conifer. Officers sniffed around but were unable to pick up his scent.