A few months ago I was driving along a country road in very slushy, messy conditions. To my dismay, along came an aggressive driver, right up my backside who decided he was going to “make” me to go faster. Now when he came along I was already going 10km faster than the speed limit, but that wasn’t good enough for him. I watched as he inched closer and closer to my bumper until I couldn’t see his headlights anymore. I just kept driving at the same speed – I don’t get pushed around by anybody.
He was driving so close that he had to run his windshield washers and wipers every once in a while to clear the mucky spray I was kicking up from the wet road. He was far too ignorant to realize that if he just backed off a little he would be able to see where he was going. Nope, he just kept inching closer and closer.
I decided he needed a lesson, so I slowed down to the speed limit. There was only one lane in each direction and there was quite a bit of traffic going the other way, so it was impossible for him to pass me. The more I slowed down the closer he got. So I decided to irritate him and slowed down even more so that I was now doing 10km below the speed limit. At this point he was driving so close that when I checked in my rear-view mirror it looked like he had sprouted a brand new vein in his forehead.
I continued to mosey along under the speed limit, paying close attention to the traffic going the other way. To ensure that the aggravation I was inflicting on this guy was as torturous as possible I would speed up when I saw an opening in the traffic going the other way, just enough so that there was no way in hell that he could take the opportunity to pass me. Then I would slow down again.
Since a little irritation didn’t do the trick I started purposely aiming for puddles and intentionally drove closer to the side of the road where no tires had been so that I was literally bathing his car in muddy slush. His wipers slaped back & forth full speed, but he wouldn’t back off.
A few kilometres later the guy’s car was covered in greasy muck and salt, but he wouldn’t give up. As I approached pothole alley I decided to have some real fun with him. I aimed straight for the potholes, then gently steered around them at the last minute to avoid them. Now of course he couldn’t see the potholes coming and I almost died laughing because out of the corner of my eye I could see him bouncing around in my rear-view mirror as he slammed into one pothole after another.
Talk about stamina – by this time he was so close behind me that it looked like he was sitting in my back seat. But he still didn't get it and just wouldn't back off. Admittedly I was managing to solicit a reaction - boy did he looked pissed! He was strangling his steering wheel with both hands and his angry face was pressed up against the windshield like a gargoyle ready to pounce. I resisted the temptation to slam on the brakes for no good reason. I wasn't really in the mood to fill out an accident report with him now that I had him good and riled up.
Finally the road widened into two lanes in either direction and my fun came to an end. He roared past me hollering obscenities the whole way and giving me the finger.
Poor bastard. He just couldn’t admit that I had the big end of the stick.
Happy wheel alignment, sucker!