The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

21 February 2008

Duel on the Broadway Extension

The attitude of some people is "As a matter of fact, I do own this damn road." Brad Neese has an unfortunate encounter with one of them:

She sped up, caught up to me and started riding my rear bumper, at times less than half a car length behind me — and at 60mph, that's pretty darn close. She was flashing her lights at me, gesturing wildly through her front windshield (which included many fervent displays of her middle digit) and weaving wildly behind me. As we started approaching slowing traffic, I made my second mistake: I tapped my brakes, hoping she would clue in to the fact that she needed to back off or we would be involved in a fender bender before we knew it. That sent her over the edge.

As we hit the congestion and were then moving at less than half of our original speed and still slowing down, she moved over to the lane to the right of me and slowly passed me. Her gesturing became more crazed and emphatic (which I didn't think could possibly be more demonstrative than her earlier antics — but was). She didnít speed on, which she could have since she was in such a damn hurry. No, instead, she wanted me to know how wrong I was and how pissed she was. She did her best to match my speed, but was driving just ahead of me so that her rear bumper was about even with my front bumper. Realizing that she was going to try to cut in front of me to slam on her brakes, I kept a very close distance between me and the vehicle in front of me. She kept weaving across the center line between the lanes like she was going to either hit me or force her way in so that I would slam into her when she hit her brakes.

He got a picture of one of her gestures: the classic digitus impudicus. It's a shame he couldn't have snapped the tag on her Civic, so we'd have some way to identify the miserable trollop and steer clear of her until such time as either (1) she learns how to drive or (2) she's compressed into an oblate spheroid as she slams into a Jersey barrier during one of her hissy fits.

Posted at 8:01 AM to City Scene , Driver's Seat , Wastes of Oxygen

I did snap a picture, but I didn't a clear enough one that you can read the tag number... it was very difficult to do while in the throes of a roadway duel that I wanted no part of.

It's also interesting that there was a fatality accident later that same day on the Broadway Extension from an out-of-control driver...

Posted by: Brad Neese at 10:23 AM on 21 February 2008

I initially thought this post was going to be about the dead bastard that was beating his woman on the Extension. Turns out it's about some OTHER doofus

Posted by: Dwayne "the canoe guy" at 10:49 AM on 21 February 2008

every time i read a complaint about a specific road rage incident, without exception it has that "mom, he hit me *back*" attitude to it. the complainant always prefaces their screed with "all i did was... (insert lame excuse for not paying attention)", and then blames the other driver(s) for reacting to a problem that the complainant caused.

the linked article is only the most recent of this kind of story; i hear at least two a week from a coworker about his commute.

road stupidity and driver inattention are the diseases, road rage is merely a symptom that will go away when those diseases are cured.

Posted by: hatless in hattiesburg at 4:06 PM on 21 February 2008

I dunno. There's a Mopar minivan around town driven by a wizened creature at 82 percent of the speed limit, tops; I figure she deserves all the outrage she inspires.

Posted by: CGHill at 4:22 PM on 21 February 2008

exactly. that person in the minivan could easily say something like "i had just picked up mopsy my poodle from the pet spa (you know how nervous she gets if i drive over 27mph). anyways, **all i did was** turn around for a minute to give her a chewtoy, when this young whipper-snapper zoomed around me doing at least 40! on the interstate, and in the righthand lane too! those dadgum kids are crazy!"

now, who's the real road hazard? :)

Posted by: hatless in hattiesburg at