[Originally one story, split into three stories to represent each location.] While jogging one gorgeous Sunday morning in upscale Oakwood, OH (a suburb of Dayton), I was running down the main drag when a shiny new pickup truck pulled out from a side access driveway to block the sidewalk. The perfectly coifed guy behind the wheel said, “Hey! Do you know where 48 is?” That should’ve clued me in, because we were sitting right on Rt. 48. I stopped, thinking he was lost, and proceeded to tell him he was on 48 and ask if he wanted to go north or south. Before I finished my sentence, he pushed himself up out of his seat and I could see through the driver’s side window his teeny dick in his fist, wagging it around. It caught me totally off-guard. At first I was shocked, but then I burst out laughing so hard that I doubled over right there on the sidewalk, holding my stomach and guffawing madly. He peeled out and went north, holding his left arm out the window with his middle finger stuck straight up in the air. I memorized his license plate and sang the numbers all the way home so I wouldn’t forget them, periodically breaking into uncontrollable laughter. I called the Oakwood police, and of course the dispatcher said they couldn’t do anything because he was probably long gone.