I admit it, I have irrational anger at the car in front of me. Always.
It doesn't matter if it's not you, but rather the moron in front of you who's holding up the traffic line, you are going to catch the blame. You're in my immediate line of sight. Yes, I realize it's irrational, but it makes me feel better to call you an idiot and blame you for all my driving troubles.
But today, I had a rational reason to be angry at a fellow road warrior. Let me set the scene.
It was a miserable, rainy day in Kentuckiana. I had just left work knowing that I had to be back tomorrow for an early morning meeting. I hate early morning meetings.
There was bumper-to-bumper traffic in order to cross the Kennedy bridge over the swollen Ohio River. Drivers were grumpy; no one was waving after I kindly let them ahead of me in line for the exit. I was grumpy because I haven't seen the sun for days now. (You might say I could blame it on the rain. Yeaaaah yeah.)
So, as those who know me can attest, it was most certainly not the day for a reckless driver to anger me. Unfortunately, Trucker #16973 did not abide by those rules.
As I idled along at perhaps 23 miles per hour (because rush hour traffic always sucks and other people can't drive in the rain) I allowed about a car length between me and the Toyota in front of me. Suddenly, the rain stopped for a brief moment, traffic began to clear, and I was able to hit the gas. But then Trucker #16973 barreled up along my passenger side.
He saw me. He definitely saw me.
Still, he pulled about even with the Toyota in front of me and decided to wedge himself between us, which may have been ok... had he been a car and not a SEMI. It was like he was Cinderella's ugly stepsister's enormous foot trying to wedge itself into the glass slipper.
He just kept coming. I honked the horn repeatedly, slammed on the brakes, yelled at Trucker #16973 in less than ladylike terms that he was not an intelligent human being, and drove into the shoulder. I watched the Toyota in front of me also take a hard left into the gravel as Trucker #16973 squealed its tires into the spot that had seconds earlier been occupied by my little Honda Accord and the Toyota.
I couldn't hear what the Toyota driver was saying, but from his hand signal, I imagine it was something along the lines of "You stupid mother trucker!"
Now, I have never claimed to be a good driver. Admittedly, I failed my driver's test the first time I took it, but only because I gently tapped the curb during the parallel parking section. (Side note, the curb is merely a guideline. I maintain as long as I corrected after tapping the curb I shouldn't have failed.)
So, yes, I've made my fair share of driving oopsies. I am sure there are plenty of people who have shaken their fist at me as I sped by them.
But you know what? I don't have a "How Am I Driving?" 800 number on the back of my car. Sadly for Trucker #16973, he does.
So I whip out my phone and dial the number, all the while still fuming. After I lost a good 10 minutes of my life on hold, I reached Bobby in the safety department.
Bobby: Can I help you?
E: Well, not now. One of your truckers already tried to run me and the car in front of me off the road.
Bobby: I'm so sorry. Do you have his truck number?
E: Of course. It's 16973. So what happens now?
Bobby: We'll radio him and let him know.
E: Know what? That he sucks at driving? That he's a jackass?
Bobby: That he's received a report for unsafe driving.
E: That's it? Doesn't he get a ticket or something?
Bobby: No ma'am, not unless a police officer pulls him over.
E: What good are these stupid numbers then? Does he get his pay docked or anything?
Bobby: It will get noted in his driving record for the company.
E: Yeah, well, that's not enough. He could have killed me.
Bobby: I'll make sure to note that, ma'am.
Whatever. It was a moral victory. Suck it, 16973.
