Jealous Homicidal Man-Child Cock-Pimple Driver

It has been some time since I really ranted here. Today, the behavior of one man-child drives me to post about his subhuman behavior.

On the ride home tonight I was splitting lanes, as is my legal right to do in this state. I was riding slower than is usual for me, given that we were in the sweeping curve leading from one freeway to another. Traffic was backed up across all five lanes for at least a mile back of these events and for miles ahead. It was unusually early for such a back-up, but it was otherwise nothing special. I am in the right margin of the fast lane, where I use my passing lights to alert drivers I am coming. It was still light out, so everything that I am detailing here was quite clear to see.

A man-child in a small white pickup truck was in the lane next to ours, left arm extended and flipping the bird to me and everyone else following him. Pardon, I presumed he was doing it to everyone. Events immediately subsequent proved me wrong.

I, being on my bike, make no response. I have better things to do, like staying alive.

As I am approaching, the driver starts screaming something. I can't hear what it is he's shouting, only see his wide-open, toothless mouth reflected in his side view mirror. 

Again, I make no response, though I cover the brakes and prepare to take evasive action. As I draw even with his rear bumper this fucknut attempts to take my life by swerving into my lane. As the homicidal man-child cock-pimple has not left me time or distance to stop safely, I am left with the sole option of accelerating clear.

Luckily, the driver I was sharing the lane with was decidedly not a jealous homicidal man-child cock-pimple from hell, and helped out, pulling to the side to give me some extra room. I manage to clear them both by less than an inch, and then only by turning my shoulders sideways to avoid homicidal man-child cock-pimple fucknut barnacle-hemmarhoid's mirror.

Fight or flight kicked in. 

I almost stopped, walked back to the man's truck (still stuck in traffic), and yanked him out, preparatory to a delicious (for me) beating. Visions of spilled blood and splintered bone made delightful passage through the halls of my mind.

Despite my fantasies of ripping the vile barnacle-hemmarhoid limb from limb, I have far too much to lose by engaging in such behavior, however righteous (and satisfying) it may be. So instead I rode on, seething with anger and the aforementioned desires. 

It kept me warm, it did. When I arrived home I drank copious water and am writing this as a means to work out my reaction, but find it does not satisfy. Here's why:

I am certain that the self-control I (and others in the shitbird's past) exhibited is something the homicidal man-child cock-pimple fucknut barnacle-hemmarhoid relies on as a survival strategy. Certainly, if anarchy reined rather than the rule of law, the creature would already be so much dead tissue on the side of the road.

I am not angry, I am enraged. Not so much because of what was done to me, but for fear of the possibility that by not yanking him out of his car and beating him till the color runs from his eyes,  someone else might be successfully victimized by the jealous homicidal man-child cock-pimple fucknut barnacle-hemmarhoid.  

Because I would feel guilt at not having put a stop to the creature's behavior, I think that the next time someone does the same, I will excise my anger on the flesh of the fuckstick and damn the consequences.

You may note that I don't ask why the shit bag did what he did.

I don't need to.

He did it because he could.

Karma is a Bitch, Ain't It?

Today I had another riding experience I am now going to force you to hear about.

Experience one:

Heavy fog this morning, forty two degrees out. I ride.

There is an intersection that has two left turn lanes, one of which is almost always used as a U turn lane and is slow as molasses because of it. As the road drivers complete the U turn onto is narrow, drivers often edge into the other turn lane, making it slow as well. Knowing this, and needing gas, I decided to go straight, perform a legal U turn in the next intersection, and get gas at the station located at the far corner of the first intersection.

Trying to get through the first intersection, the truck in front of me slams on his brakes. I brake, come to a stop inches from the rear end of the truck in front of me. I look to see what emergency has caused my near-death experience. It appears someone does not want to go straight and wants everyone else in three lanes to stop so they can butt into line. I wish I was that important.

So, on we go. We get to the next intersection, I put my signal on and begin my U turn. Those of you who ride might know that U-Turns are not the simplest maneuver on a bike given the low speed and tight turn radius required, especially in slick conditions. I gave myself space. I performed the turn. The asshat who started behind me decides to make his U-turn inside my arc AND THEN FAILS TO MAKE IT IN ONE MOTION, requiring me to stop to avoid hitting him.

ASSHAT.

I gave him a flash or two of the lights, to let him know he was endangering my life with his impatience. He did not move his head or raise a hand to indicate, 'oops' or anything of that nature.

I rode up next to him where he was stopped at the light (Unlike me, he was not getting gas) and motioned for him to roll down his window. He stared.

That's right, he was a big man behind the wheel of his hurtling car, but unwilling to man up and face even the mild correction I might have directed at him. Such behavior causes me some stress, as I was somehow brought up to acknowledge mistakes I made and own my behavior, yet there seem to be so few people who do this.

I was satisfied to see him zoom off to get stuck in traffic. Later, after getting gas and getting on the freeway a little further down the road I saw his vehicle with its ambers on, broken down on the side of the road.

Had I been in a lane closer and could have done it safely, I might have stopped, offered to help, then told him, "Karma's a Bitch." and ridden off.

Perhaps fortunately (for my own karma, at least) I was unable to do so. My darker side does hope the fucker is still there, unable to get help and stewing in his own juices.

Just In Case

You were wondering why it might be illegal to text or talk on your cell phone whilst driving:



Dumb motherfuckers.

Monday...

Get away from me kid, ya bother me...

I'm a busy man.

Until I return, please enjoy this commentary on soccer moms, shitty drivers, SUVs, and the sense of entitlement:



And for those of you underwater on your mortgage:

Driving for Dumb Motherfuckers

It occurs to me that I might be calling some drivers asshats when they know not what they did that causes said nomenclature to spring to mind. Hence, in the interest of being completely fair, I provide the following stages of driving for dumb motherfuckers:

Stage 1:  get in the car well in advance of the time of any appointment you might have, and, and this is vitally important:  allow for the time it might take to get where the fuck you are headed!  As part of this, you should know, at least generally, where the hell you are going in advance.

Stage 2: Pay attention.  Did you check all around your vehicle? Repeat this check with every movement of your vehicle, regardless of whether you are accelerating, stopping, changing lanes, turning, or merging.  You moving or changing rate of movement, you must constantly look the fuck around!

Stage 3: If you miss your turn/think you want to be in a different lane than that which you are currently occupying, signal your intent, repeat Stage 2, wait a moment, repeat Stage 2, and when it is obviously clear and safe to do so, then and only then complete the fuckin' movement. When any doubt exists as to the safety of a movement, don't make it. Wait.  Go around the block.  Get off at the next exit.  Do not skip any of the stages.

Stage 4: Do not ignore signs and then expect other drivers to comply with your stupidity or otherwise behave as you do.  In other words, don't honk at me to get out of your way when we are at a light and turning right.  I might see something you can't that prevents me from turning right safely, fucktard. Another fine example: If you are speeding, don't tailgate, honk at or flash me with your brights to get me out of the way.  The speed limit is there for us all to obey or not, don't get pissed because I choose to actually adhere to the law of the land.  Now, if I'm not an asshat, I should, as a matter of courtesy get out of the fast lane as soon as I have gone through my own assessment of the safety of doing so using Stage 3.

Stage 5: Drive according to your actual capabilities and present condition, as well as those of the road and the vehicle you are driving.  You may be a formula one driver, but if you happen to be behind the wheel of a minivan, slow the fuck down before you kill someone!  If your car is a clunker that parts may fly from at any point, don't get on the road.  If you are hung over, drunk, angry over your divorce,  or simply waiting to die, don't fuckin' drive. If the road you are driving down is full of potholes, slow down.

Stage 6: Be prepared! At any time things may change, so you may need to change your direction, speed or whatever. But being prepared means remembering to complete and repeat the other stages of driving, regardless of what the asshat sharing the road with you might or might not be doing at any given time. 

If you adhere to these stages of driving, you are, I think, more likely to avoid an accident than those that don't.  Certainly you will be less likely to cause an accident and endanger others...