Catsidhe

I was this close to getting into a roadrage fight this evening on the way home.

And those who know me may be surprised to know that I was the receiver of the rage.

I was coming down Orrong rd, just past Inkerman, when this complete hoon swung into a tiny gap behind me. He was, I could clearly see, yelling and swearing. I could clearly see because he was about an inch and a half from my rear bumper. I could also clearly see his child inthe passenger seat, and the can he was swigging from as he swung all over the road, inches from my rear. It may have been coke. I doubt that it was, though.

He was tailgating me most egregiously, so I did my usual thing of not accellerating as quickly as I might to leave a gap ahead of me, then speeding up to leave a gap behind me. Irritating, I know, but it's the only way I can think of to communicate "Back the fuck off" without an LED sign in the window. Yes, I have considered building such a sign.

Next opportunity this idiot got, he gunned it and swung around me, leaving bare millimeters 'clearance'. I, naturally, gave the fuckwit the finger as he passed.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

Next thign I know, he has pulled in front of me and screeched to a halt. In his mirror I can see that he is yelling and screaming. Something along the lines of "Yeah? Yeah, you fucker? Come on, try me! Yeah?" This is conjecture as I had Tool playing, quite loudly. He then accellerated, and screeched to a halt again. And again. He glared at me in the mirror, and his arm waved out the window, in "bring it on, motherfucker" motions. I just looked at him.

We sat there, him blocking me and yelling and screaming for me to try something, and me sitting there looking at him blankly. His abuse moved on, judging from his facial expressions, to "Didn't think so, you fucking faggot, not so fucking tough now."

I moved to pull around him, and he sped off, still glaring at me in the mirror, swerving all over the road, gesticulating and swigging from the can.


When I pulled in in front of the house, not 100 meters later, I was shaking so hard I couldn't hold on to my car keys, and the first thing I did when I came in was head to the bottle of Jamieson's and take several large swigs. I'm still shaking now.

And all I can think about is how I did chicken out when he stopped me. I should have gotten out of the car. Then, at least, I would be making some proactive assertive action. Maybe he would have lost his nerve, and taken off. Maybe he would have yelled at me as I stood at his window (with the physical advantage). Maybe he would have stepped out himself, and attacked me in the street, but at least I have a fair chance of holding my own. But even then I would have done something. Hell, if I had a better memory and better foresight I should have memorised his licence plate number and called the fucking police. But I didn't.

As it is, I did nothing, and that I didn't get beaten up in the process somehow makes it worse.



I'm going to stop whining now, and go back to the whiskey.