Friday, May 29, 2009

Someone explain this one to me. Maybe I'm too manly to understand.

On my way home from work late last night, I was waiting to turn left from a three-lane one-way street onto a divided highway. Some yahoo in a giant Ford pickup was in the center lane. When the light turned green, he cut me off by turning left (he had his turn signal on at least, which is why I'm not dead). I honked, prompting the driver's shit-kicking friends and a blonde girl too cute to be with them to turn around and make faces. True to form, the truck slowed to a crawl as soon as it turned. As I passed, the driver and I made eye contact, and he looked douche-pissed (a new word I just made up to mean angry but too wrong and pathetic to do anything about it). For the record, he looked like a cross between Kid Rock and DJ Qualls. Git-R-Drunk!

I think it's all over. Suddenly, I see a frighteningly huge set of headlights suddenly shoot toward my rear-view mirror. I shift to the right lane, and so does he. I shift back into the left lane, and so does he. I shift halfway into the right lane and then back into the left, and he follows my exact movements. For 45 mph, this seems to be unfolding in awfully slow motion.

He's trying to run me off the road. I'm petrified. It was all I could do not to tap on my brakes and see just how Ford pickups stack up on the crash-test scale. But the last time I did that, many years ago, some soccer dad in a big black Suburban actually tried to pull me over. What, to compare bumper trims? I don't want to personally confront these bad-driving bastards; I just want them out of my danger zone.

Back to the present. This would be a lame way to die. I could only hope my friends would fudge the cause of death into something more dignified, like autoerotic asphyxiation.

And by the way, where is the police? No cops anywhere! Figures the one night I need them they aren't there. Thanks a lot.

Fortunately for myself and my car, this idiot had to turn right, while I was headed left. Otherwise, this game of hemorrhoid might have continued. As we split, I peered into the truck's cab. They appeared to be laughing and whooping, as if what they just did to me was the highlight of their week.

A similar event happened earlier in the day, when a Mexican contracting crew in a very similar vehicle also turned from the wrong lane at a different intersection. To their credit, they weren't trying to butt me; they were just in the wrong lane. And they sought permission, at least. Still annoying, but that counts for something at least. Weird day.

Can somebody explain to me what exactly the allure is of putting someone else's life in danger? What is it about reckless driving that gets people off? What sort of pent-up desires does trying to bump someone off the road satisfy? Hell, I'm still trying to figure out why people find peeling out sexy: "Ooh, that dude can push a rubber pedal faster than than his wheels can gain torque, thus wearing down his tires too fast in clouds of air-polluting dust! Hot!"

Apparently that works for some people. What a world.

3 comments:

TJenkins said...

I was waiting for the payoff that it was all Bush's fault and you let me down.

Ian McGibboney said...

No, I think it was you.

NOLA Progressive said...

I think there must certainly be some type of psychological link. You know the penis envy scenario, but maybe it's just that these type of people know that they can't engage the world intellectually, so they choose to engage and impact it with cheap beer, over-large tires, and ignorant attitudes.

Oh and as an aside... I logically know there is no direct cause and effect relationship, but I'd be willing to wage large sums of money that this individual voted for Bush. Twice!