Somebody tried to kill me…yet again.
There are several catagories of dangerous cage (motorcyclists’ slang for a car or truck) drivers on the roads today.
First, you have the stupid ones. These are people that have no business at all driving. Even the mail-order license place wouldn’t send them a photocopied license to try. These are dangerous to motorcyclists as they can be unpredicatable.
Next, the distracted ones. These are folks that talk on the cell, put on makeup, read newspapers (yes, I’ve seen it) and basically choose to do other things rather then actually drive their car. These are dangerous, but usually are readily seen and easily avoided in most circumstances.
Then, there’s the intoxicated ones. Whatever their drug of choice, impaired drivers all have something in common…they haven’t a clue what they are doing, but at the same time are quite sure that they are the best driver on the roadways at the moment. This is the person that even whilst driving the wrong way down the freeway, is sure all those other people must be doing it wrong…since the “do not enter” and “wrong way” signs are so clearly visible to that impaired driver.
There’s the otherwise competent driver that just cannot seem to see motorcycles for some reason. These are the most likely to turn left in front of you, change lanes on top of you, etc. Not impaired, and not malicious, they just didn’t see you. A blast of the horn usually will take care of these, as they are otherwise alert.
Now, we come to the most dangerous driver of them all…this is the driver that sees the motorcyclist, and consciously chooses to crowd him or take his lane. This person knows that the motorcycle will be forced to yield, as what would be a “fender bender” to the car could very well be fatal for the motorcyclist. These guys are disturbingly common. It’s nothing less than threatening with a deadly weapon.
I ran into one of these bozos the other day. Two ramps coming together, I had the right of way, but it was a slow speed merge. As the spacing worked out, I let two cars in front of me. A mid-90’s Mustang was positioned to slide in behind me. This was a left merge…that is, the merging cars were coming from the left.
Just before the merge area ended, the driver of the Mustang gunned it and pulled up right beside me…his passenger door even with me, and started coming over. I rapidly ran out of space as there was a car to my immediate right. That car AND the people behind me both saw what was happening and stopped, giving me some space, but the Mustang was now inches off my crash bar. I deliberately looked in his window to see if maybe he just wasn’t looking. He was leaned over and looking directly at me. He was leering. His passenger flipped me off and the driver turned the wheel to come the rest of the way over.
I had no choice except to steer hard right and stop. I was a fraction of an inch from the stopped car to my right, and still the Mustang barely cleared my front wheel as he gunned it on by.
There’s little to be done, short of resorting to some sort of violence right there on the road. I had to move, or I’d be seriously injured or dead. He knew I would, and took advantage of that, risking my life and my machine as he did.
I don’t even get mad anymore. What would be the point? Besides, I know that eventually, one way or another, Kharma is going to come calling on this bozo. She can be a real bitch when she’s forced to pay a visit. Yeah, I know Kharma will catch up with him, and I know just how small this world can be when she comes hunting.
I should mention that I have a very good memory for license plate numbers and other distinctive features of a vehicle, especially when I’m forced to look at it in a charged and dangerous situation. I also clearly got a look at the driver’s face.
Yeah, I know Kharma will catch up with him, and I know just how small this world can be when she comes hunting.
So, it was really no surprise to me when I spotted this car and driver a couple days later, parking in the lot of a superstore. I had needed some oil and was just coming out. I stopped in the doorway and made him walk around me. Our eyes met. There was no recognition in his. That actually irritates me a bit too…that somebody could so casually risk others lives…go so far as to look at a man as you run him off the road…and not even really see his face.
I let it go. Punching a man’s face through the back of his skull, whilst an immense stress-reliever in these sorts of cases, is generally considered unacceptable behavior in a department store.
Did I mention the superstore is remodling? Gad. Construction all around. What a mess.
A bit of trivia…a mid-90’s model Mustang is about two inches too wide to fit in one of those 18 cubic yard construction dumpsters.
Only about two inches. You can’t really fit it through the dump gate.
You have to drop it in from the top.
Yeah, Kharma’s a bitch.