Looking back; look back again and yet again

I followed a car on my way home the other night and I was kept amused by a young girl travelling in the rear of the car in front. She, Lolita, sat in the middle, rear facing seats of a seven-seater MPV and continuously stared back at me with a wry smile on her face. She was a young girl whom I assumed was just finding her own sexuality and beginning to test its effect on those around her. She possessed all the innocence yet at the same time the awakenings of the woman were very much upon her. Being the father of three teenage daughters I found her antics most amusing indeed; stroking of shoulders, raising of arms above her head, playing with hair. For my part I did not pay her as much attention as she had probably hoped. She would’ve play acted in this way regardless of whom was in the car behind the one she was driven in, provided the follower was male.
There was a time when I would have been flattered if not impressed, but I just felt like an intruder if I stared back too much.
What was more disconcerting for me was the second rear seat passenger in the forward facing seat of the car.
Initially I had paid this person little or no attention at all, at that point in time I had no idea if they were either male or female. I thought that this person had cottoned on to Lolita’s flirtatious japes and had turned their head to glance out of the back window of the car to see whom she was playing up to. He turned the other way to look over his other shoulder and then turned immediately back again to look once more the other way. It was then that I began to panic and relate to parts of my past that still haunt to this day. I waited with baited breath, please no, do not turn again to the right I inwardly begged him; but alas he did. I then realised I was looking at myself as a young lad. I had counted four and four again, four times he turned his head so each ear had alighted upon its corresponding shoulder.
My fears were then confirmed beyond a shadow of doubt when the car in front suddenly braked and the young boys head involuntarily flopped forward and back again in response to the vehicles braking motion. He then, in a controlled manner, forced his head to follow the same forward and backward motion a further three times to ‘even’ the head movement to four. This confirmed for me that he was indeed an Obsessive Compulsive; not only was he suffering from OCD but it appears it was the same manifestation that I too was inflicted with many moons ago. I have been able to control my own OCD without professional help and have continued to control it for years. I only hope this lad has the strength to do the same.
A part of me wanted to follow car to its journeys end and to offer words of comfort and understanding to the OCD sufferer, but I knew he needed to find his own way through this journey and, like Lolita, I knew no good would come from intruding into their world.