Repost from October of 2005 that I found to be particularly disturbing. Please share your Rager comments with me to wrap me up in Internet Lovin’. I’m still a little disturbed re-reading it.
This afternoon, upon picking my son up from school, I decided to venture to the Greatest Place On Earth when you’re dieting. The Grocery Store. Our shopping experience was uneventful; I drooled over the non-diet food, even the stuff I wouldn’t have touched anyway, Ben pleaded for candy and no! vegetables! and my cart looked like a schizophrenic had gone shopping. Absolutely no different from any other time I’ve hit the store.
The true excitement only began when I tried to leave the store.
I’m waiting at the stop sign to turn on to North Blvd, about to head home. A car is approaching from the left with its turn-signal a-flashin’. I inch forward a bit, still in the parking lot, as I was taught to drive by The Most Anal Man Ever To Walk The Planet, his lectures still fresh in my mind, ‘œDon’t turn until you see the other guy’s wheels turn,’ “Signal Your Intent!” and the always super corny “Better Safe Than Sorry!”
When I look back at the other car, after checking to make sure the right lane was clear, the other guy has turned off his signal.
And stopped the car to honk loudly and gesture wildly.
This, being a pet peeve of mine, the Incessant Honking After I Have Clearly Stopped The Car and Thereby Present No Danger To You, irritates me. I’m not only a competent driver, I’m not reckless in any way–especially if my child is in tow–and I haven’t done a single honk-worthy thing. My car is standing completely still.
So I do the most mature thing possible, because I am as the French would say, ‘Grown-Up’, and I give him the ole One Finger Salute. I’m highly annoyed by his attitude and the one thing that’s keeping me from diving head-first into a bag of jelly beans.
Stupid fucking move, Aunt Becky, stupid fucking move.
If he was mad before, now he is on fire with anger, and he promptly sprints out of his car, headed straight for my car. To do, I don’t know what. Yell at me for flicking him off? Holler at my audacity to inch up at a stop sign to better visualize the cross traffic? Tell me about how I’m an idiot for not buying organic produce and bringing my own bags?
I just can’t be sure.
Let me make it absolutely clear that I had not gotten even CLOSE to hitting him. I was still physically in the parking lot, behind the white line at the stop sign. You wouldn’t have had to so much as swerve to avoid me.
So, all signs flashing ‘œDanger, DANGER Will Robinson!’ I take off like a bat outta hell. I’m not interested to find out if the man had gotten out of the car to tell me how beautiful I look today, offer me a bazillion dollars, or threaten the life of my son and I. Nope. Not interested at all.
I look back in my rearview mirror to see him standing in the middle of the road on his cell phone, likely trying to call in my plates. My heart pounded freakishly the entire way home, and I tumbled back to the condo as freaked out as I’d ever been.
Ed Note: It’s been over 3 years since this happened, and I haven’t flicked off a single person since. Nor have I had any follow-up whatsoever from this incident, which one could hardly even call an “incident” since nothing happened.
But it still freaks me out to remember that. Rage, road or not, directed at the right or wrong person, is still damn frightening.