Ragin'

Back when my grandmother was alive, one of the things she did whenever something had scared or frightened me, or if there was a close-call or anything traumatic, she would gently tug on my ear lobes and shake them, for a second or two, as if to release some sort of bad spell or bad vibe. It wasn't with a firm grip or to inflict any pain...just a gentle touch as if to tell me "it's ok". It must have been an old school, old wives thing.

On my way home from work there's a road I take where two lanes have to merge into one. The right lane becomes a "right turn only" lane and generally either last-minute cutters or clueless people are in the right lane and want to merge into the thru-traffic left lane. I take this road straight every day. As I've probably said before, I'm a courteous driver and if the clueless folks realize that they have to merge, they usually signal and I'm good about allowing people in. No big deal. Cutters make their own space and if they don't cause an accident, then they get away with it and piss off everyone else.

Today was about as close to a full-blown road rage incident as I've ever been involved in. Mr. Jerk in the right lane was driving about even with me, just slightly ahead, and the next thing I know, he's like an inch from my passenger side, encroaching. Naturally, I slam on the brakes (me:newer Honda, jerk:old Chevy Blazer) and get on the horn. Not a big deal, in my opinion. Just letting him know he's a jerk and I didn't appreciate it. But for Mr. Jerk, his hand was already out the window, flippin me off. And slowing to a crawl, putting his face up to his side mirror so I can see him mouthing off at me. He alternates showing me his hand (thank you, I know what a bird looks like), putting his face up to his side mirror, and also halfway pulling off the road, inviting me to join him in a little chat on the road shoulder. Mr. Jerk is now moving so slowly that the people behind me are starting to honk. I swear, I thought I was going to be shot at.

As the few seconds pass during this encounter, I'm on the phone, dialing 9-1-1. Enough of this. I let him drive off and so I pull off to the side of road and go through with the emergency dispatcher, describing where I am and what happened, Mr. Jerk's license plate, etc.

(If you're going to cut someone off, don't you think you'd want to NOT slow down so that the cut-ee can fully read your license plate and have a good description of your body type and approximate age?)

The dispatcher instructs me to wait for an officer to come and take my statement. By this time, I realized that my voice was unsteady and my whole body was shaking. Was this a fight/flight reaction? ("I'm a lover, not a fighter") I've never been involved in this big a way. So, what was next? My mind was racing, going through pressing charges, a police lineup, Mr. Jerk getting off with a slap to the wrist and him staking out my house because he knows my home address now...

Of course, my imagination was getting the best of me. Officer Friendly arrived and we discussed the options and realistically what could happen. I know these officers have much better things to do than harass some bad driver with an attitude problem. No accident was caused, so there's nothing that could be nailed on Mr. Jerk. Officer Friendly said that in situations like this, he would call the registered owner and report that there were multiple 9-1-1 calls complaining of his driving and that this incident would be on their books and that they've notified Mr. Jerk, yadda yadda. Officer Friendly assured me that there was no way my name or address or license plate number would be connected with this (hmm...I'm a skeptic). I left him with this assurance. I was still shaking and angry and nervous, but to some extent, a bit calmer. What might have been.

As I got back on the road and headed home, I realized just how much I missed my grandmother and the years she was around when I was growing up. I really needed her to come by and tug on my ear lobes.