Today I feared for my life. Road rage. It’s a subject much in the headlines: the lunatic who shot a 6-year-old multiple times in a car on the side of the road; the angry Boston driver who forced another vehicle off a bridge for a deadly plunge into the Charles River. You know, I used to be the kind of driver who gave the finger to all of the deserving. But no more. With all the armed crazy white men out there, I gave up road rage in exchange for keeping my head down and maintaining a low profile while driving according to the laws.
Today it was rainy and dark all day. I was on the way to Trader Joe’s on a three-lane part of Route 2. At one point the left lane had to turn left and the right lane had to turn right. I was in the right lane and needed to move into the center lane to continue forward. The guy behind me wasn’t really letting me through, but then a gap opened up and I slipped in.
He went ballistic. He gunned it, peeled out behind me to the right and almost on two wheels, cut in front of me, where there was no real room. He slammed on his brakes, assuming I would plow into his rear (100% my fault in Massachusetts), but I managed to stop. Luckily the person behind me managed to stop as well. People on both side lanes were freaking out, swerving. There he was stopped dead on a fast-moving road.
He leapt out with a murderous, hate-twisted face towards me, and popped the trunk. He reached into the trunk, twisting his grotesque face my way. A gun? A tire iron? I peeled to the left, where there was a sliver of space, and then kept going. I didn’t get his license, I didn’t take his photo. I just got my ass out of there.
Stay safe my friends.