Sometimes you really have to wonder what is wrong with people. Like why do we as a society not give people a psych exam before we give them the license to drive a huge hunk of high speed metal around (I mean there are kids walking around out there!).
Yesterday I had one of the strangest encounters with a motorist I have ever had the displeasure of living though. Lets set the scene.
State street, 5pm, heavy rush hour traffic, bumper to bumper. I am riding at a very cautious pace down the right hand side of the street, on my right is a large concrete wall, on my left an unmoving mass of traffic. This is a daily ride for me, so my head is on a swivel, scanning for darting pedestrians, cab doors opening, homeless guys wandering about in the street, pot holes, construction, etc. State street can be safely classified as a grade A shit show every day at 5pm. I have learned that everything can happen so I watch out for anything.
Which is why I was only slightly surprised when a black car full of men pulled directly in front of me (to the right mind you) gunned it for ten feet (narrowly missing taking their own mirror off on the jersey barrier), only to slam back over to the left. They nearly ran me down, almost damaged their own car, and nearly ran into the car in front of them all for a one car advantage in the great car battle that they must have imagined they were participating in. What really caught me off guard was when they waited till I was right next to them to open the back right passenger door and eject one of the passengers.
I was going very slow so when the edge of the door came to a rest against my handle bars (right between my pointer and middle finger thankfully) my back wheel barely left the ground. I was immediately confused as this car was stuck on all sides in traffic and there was a large concrete wall on the right, what the fuck? The passenger immediately began screaming “what the fuck are you doing” to which I thought briefly and responded in a logical and cool manner “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING ASSHOLE!” This was to be a clue as to the future interactions I was to have with these road scholars.
After explaining unambiguously (using small words, this guy was clearly some kind if space cadet) that this asshole can go eat a dick (he opened his door in the middle of traffic on the wrong side, without looking). He clearly was not mentally prepared for the debate, and wandered out into three lanes of traffic to find adventure else where. The entire time I was educating him as to the error his ways his three Southy accented friends were busy shouting poorly formed obscenities at me from the vehicle.
As the car wasn’t going anywhere I had more than enough time to take a picture of the cars license plates with my cell phone. You know just in case. This seemed to rustle the feathers of the driver, who must have rubbed his remaining brain cells together and realized that he was now identifiable (52k E81 in case you are curious). He exited his car and allowed me the pleasure of getting a good look at him (by putting his ugly pock marked stump of a face right up into mine) and through a haze of spittle he uttered “I am going to fucking KILL YOU!” The rational part of my brain should have registered that there was now three thick necked troglodytes threatening to end my life (and informed my legs that now would be a good time to run away). Instead the irrational part of my brain took over and frankly I lost my shit.
“You are going to kill me?! You just tried to kill me TWICE, I doubt you got the sack for this kind of work bitch, now get back in your fucking car before this shit gets nasty!” Have you ever seen a skinny person lose their shit, it is at once comical, and terrifying. The complete lack of concern for ones own safety can foster a deep disquiet in even the hardiest opponent, and my shit was most certainly lost at this point. You try to run me over, then you try to door me, then you spit in my face and tell me you are going to kill me? Your car was the threat, you are just a pathetic little man with an over inflated sense of importance.
He immediately returned to his car, his passenger then asked if my bicycle was OK, (to which I responded by holding up my middle finger and saying “you almost broke my finger asshole.” This entire encounter took less than 5 minutes, and at no point did traffic move an inch, I remounted my bike, rode off and the passenger was nice enough to roll down his window so I could inform him that he and his compatriots were worthless pieces of shit, and I had a very excellent ride home in the nice weather last night.
In retrospect this entire encounter was a failure. No one learned anything (other than the driver of the black car with plates 52K E81 is a worthless waste of air). I could have been seriously hurt, by bad driving, poor door opening, or militant thuggery. I completely lost my cool and was most likely biting off way more than I could have swallowed (there were still three dudes in the car, a near certain recipe for an ass whoopin). And yet I don’t feel that bad about it, I stood my ground, defended myself, no one actually got hurt, and I get to warn the world about the driver of car 52K E81.
Consider this a public service announcement.
Tags: 52KE81, douche bags, road rage, state street
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