Road Rage

After a perfect date with the wench at our Thai restaurant, we had to stop off at the grocery store for necessary kidstuff.  Driving through the parking lot ended up in a mixup more than just finding a spot.

The BIG black SUV decided to pull out just as we were passing by.  It did a good job of scaring me and the wench.  I have a habit of making a disgruntled face at people like that (from the safety of my car).  So I made my face at the guy and carried on.  He followed me.

The progression of events is easy enough to predict.  I got to my destination easily enough, and was met by not just BBSUV, but his little-bittie car buddy.  Facing three or more disgruntled gentlemen (my face must have been a good one), I was put on the defensive.

I know what I should have done.  I know what I shouldn’t have done.  I did the latter.  I just kinda looked the other way as they used the old routine.  Bully/gang tactics and threats work quite well on me and I just chickened out.    I implied what they wanted me to and went my merry way.  Wench, having more balls, at least made a stab at confronting them, but by then I’d already lost the battle for us.

So much for a good date.  This sort of thing hasn’t happened to me in years.  Good to know I haven’t changed much.

I justified everything with a very rousing bout of “Put self-preservation in front of my actions” and that worked for me.

As the wench says, however, they’ll just continue on with their quasi-illegal brute/bully tactics next time.  And they’ll continue until they’re stopped or dead.  I should have said the following:

“I apologize, sir, for interrupting your day with my expression of disdain for your driving skills.  Yes, I understand there are three of you, each of whom is big enough to pound my tiny ass to jello.  If there really is a problem, l can call the police, and have them sort out the problem for us.  Please refrain from bullying or hitting me until the boys in blue arrive so there’s an audience for your self-indulgence.  Oh, and please, if you have weapons or intend to damage my car or my wife, please try not to feel bad if I am not willing to cooperate further.  Blah blah blah.”

Of course, all the while, I would have been using my intelligence skills to memorize their license plates and descriptions for future use.

I’m sorry, o’ community, for failing to provide an example of model citizenship.  Maybe somebody else will take up my slack.

Maybe I should get a BBSUV and some henchmen.

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COMMENT:

AUTHOR: Hugh Manatee

DATE: 11/20/2004 04:55:29 PM

Ominous looks–you call that road rage? Let me tell you about another adventure in automotive jousting.

Returning to the suburbs from a late night bar-hop in Boston, I drove along Route 1 where traffic, restricted to one lane in either direction, occasionally allows passing.  At 3 AM, there was no other traffic but myself, in a small sedan, and one other vehicle, a pickup, ahead of me.

The truck plodded along with the overcaution of a tippler trying not to attract the attention of the police. But when I attempted to pass where permitted, the truck & driver would step on the gas. After a few instances of this game, I floored my car, flew by him, and rolled down the window to flip him the bird. And that, I thought, was that.

Not so. Throwing caution to the wind, he gave chase. For the next 7 miles or so, his headlights were never far from my taillights. Perhaps he had found purpose in life, or at least an opportunity to express his displeasure at a lack of it. Whatever the case, a thrashing was clearly in order.

But I had the hometown advantage. I knew there was an intersection ahead at the bottom of a very, very steep hill. Our two vehicles, practically joined like boxcars, descended into the valley. Reaching the intersection, I abruptly turned left, tires screeching. Caught by surprise, the truck was going too fast to follow without rolling, and so continued straight through the intersection until the driver could turn around to continue pursuit.

By then I’d pulled into a random driveway and turned off the lights. Soon the truck went racing by in search of the prey who had vanished into the darkness.

The bigger they are, the harder they corner.

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COMMENT:

AUTHOR: Pooka

DATE: 11/21/2004 02:15:17 PM

I only hope such a thing doesn’t occur again in my lifespan. I’ve demonstrated all too well my consistency in these situations. Don’t need it any more.