I’m generally a judicious, safe driver. I wear my seatbelt, I rarely do more than 10 MPH over the speed limit, and I always lookout for squirrels (and even children, sometimes). Despite my State Farm officiated good driver status, every once in a while even the safest of drivers will pull some kind of asshole maneuver on the road.
If you’re unfamiliar with term “asshole maneuver,” consider the following scenario:
You’re driving to somewhere you’ve never been before, and your navigation informs you that you need to turn left in 500 feet. Naturally, you’re in the right lane. You have two choices: 1) Miss the turn and risk your GPS rerouting you through a bad neighborhood (or worse, telling you to make a U-turn!), or 2) Cut off that school bus you’ve been amicably coasting alongside for several miles. Obviously, you decide to cut off the school bus, but you don’t make the light, so now you’re stopped right next to the school bus after doing the highway equivalent of having an affair with the driver’s spouse. As you’re fearfully staring straight ahead, you can feel the bus driver shooting shrapnel your way using only his eyes.
You always know when you’ve done an asshole driving maneuver, because immediately afterwards, especially if you’re stuck at a red light with the driver you’ve wronged in the vicinity, you’ll be cowering in your driver’s seat feeling a mixture of guilt and exhilaration. The little guardian angel you have clipped to your visor will be sitting on your shoulder, scolding you: “You know I can’t fly that fast! You shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong, and you’re lucky you didn’t cause an accident!” On your other shoulder, Vin Diesel will be co-signing your decisions:
There’s a tiny part of every driver that fears we’ll be confronted by another driver when we do something reckless, but most of the time we count on getting away with it unscathed because getting out of your car to provoke another driver involves putting your car in park (sometimes in the middle of the road), unbuckling your seatbelt, making sure you don’t lock yourself out, etc. It’s a lot of work. I’m pretty sure the rearview mirror was really included on cars so we could lip-read what obscenities the driver in the car behind us is calling us and so we can watch to see if anyone is coming up from behind us with a baseball bat to shatter all of our windows.
We’re entitled to be a little scared, because every human being is at their most confrontational in their car (see Louis CK). I’ve said and wished things upon other driver’s that I would never utter aloud in any other circumstance. I’ve gotten so angry by something another driver did, I’ve considered speeding up and throwing my garbage at their car. I’ve even contemplated, “What if I just followed this person and keyed their car? How could they link the crime to me? They don’t know me or my plate number!”
Maybe you haven’t crossed that line, yet, but we all have road rage—it just manifests itself in different ways.
I pulled an asshole maneuver the other day, and if it weren’t for one minivan that was obviously trying to kill me, I would’ve gotten away with it.
I was cruising up to a busy intersection with the intention of turning left. However, as I drove up, I noticed the adjacent left lane (going straight) was so crowded it was impeding my entrance to the left turn lane, and the turn lane was going to get the green light soon. I decided to do something I’ve admittedly done several times before: I drove on the median and over a left turn lane facing the opposite direction (for oncoming traffic) to get up to my desired turn lane. Now I know this isn’t advisable, and I’d never have done it if a student driver, unicorn, and/or cop car was present, but there were no cars coming, and I saw an opportunity. You can’t spell carpe diem without car. (That was so much more clever in my head. I’ll let you be the judge.)
The situation:
My plan of attack:
However, as I’m midway through my asshole maneuver, this random minivan, who has been patiently waiting at the red light for several moments before I came along, suddenly decides, “Herp derp, I guess I could technically go over to the turn lane.” Instead of checking his or her blind spot, the minivan driver just starts pulling out in front of me. I had a choice in that moment. I could stop and let this unopportunistic driver ahead of me in the turn lane line-up, or I could honk my horn and go around him or her. I decided to honk my horn.
An unexpected obstacle:
I know what I’m doing isn’t technically right, so I tried not to lay on the horn, but I may have held it for a little too long. I was aiming for a quick, BEEP like “Hey! Heads up! I’m here!” but I think it came across as more of a HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK which translates, “WHOA WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU MORON?! CAN’T YOU SEE ME?!?!”
What was once a simply asshole maneuver had metamorphosed into a compound asshole maneuver.
I was feeling guilty as I sped around the oblivious minivan, but it was too late to have seconds thoughts. I had to commit to it now! I was this close to getting away with my misdeeds, but the turn lane arrow turned yellow, and now I was stuck in this turn lane with the minivan I offended right behind me for an entire traffic cycle.
At this point, I’m so ashamed that I’m barely peeking in my rear view mirror, because I don’t even want to make eye contact with the minivan’s driver. I’m sweating like there’s a helicopter flying above, shining a spotlight on my car like I’m a fugitive on the DMV’s 10 Most Wanted Asshole Drivers list. I’m rifling through the receipts in my center console when a fat knuckle forcefully knocks on my driver’s side window.
There’s a man knocking on my window. I look at the intersection and see the traffic going the opposite direction still has the green light. I’m trapped. I look in the rear view mirror, and to my dismay, there’s both a driver and a passenger sitting in the minivan behind me. Who the fuck is this guy?! Did he come out of the backseat of the van? Is he a vagrant?
I hear Pharrell’s voice coming from my speakers, beckoning me to clap along if that’s what I want to do, but I’m too busy trying to figure out who this random guy next to my car is. I have a feeling this confrontation was prompted by my compound asshole maneuver, but if this isn’t the minivan driver, who is it? I don’t have to roll down my window for this guy! It’s unlikely with all these cars around, but this man could be trying to rob me or steal my car! What kind of grown man approaches a young woman’s car and knocks on the window like this? I was seriously considering opening my glove compartment and screaming at him to get away or I’ll spray him with pepper spray.
But deep down I knew what was happening here, and after years of getting away with asshole maneuvers scot-free, it was time to face the music. I calmly rolled down my window and made sunglass-barrier eye contract with the intimidating, shaved headed jerk tapping his foot outside my driver’s side door.
“What are you doing driving in the oncoming traffic lane and beeping your horn at people?”
He paused a second as if he was daring me to have the audacity to make an excuse. My heart was pounding, and my palms were first date clammy. In the fleeting moment that passed with the two of us staring each other down, I nearly challenged him to claim he wouldn’t have done the same if he were in my position. I wanted to know if he considered himself innocent of all asshole driving maneuvers! I wanted to plead my case and convince him that normally I abide by the rules of the road. I wanted to dizzy this cocky stranger with my logic and pragmatism and prove once and for all that I’m not one of those drivers, but before I even had the chance to speak, he changed my mind:
“Learn how to fucking drive.”
I was okay until he emphasized the “kuh” in “fucking.” After that I was ready to pound my chest, toss a couple bananas, and go apeshit on this jerk.
As he started walking back to his car, I nearly sunk to his level. I finally felt ready to take my cutthroat carfrontation tactics from my driver’s seat to the streets. I wanted to jump out of the car and tell this fella just what a shitbreathing jackass he was and how I regret absolutely NOTHING. I know how to fucking drive, and I was well within my rights to perform a compound asshole maneuver if it meant sparing a car accident!
The light still hadn’t changed, and I couldn’t let this self-proclaimed driving dicktator have the last word. I decided to put an end to this exchange with the classiest way you can tell someone, “Go fuck yourself.” I poked my head out my open window and merrily called,
“Thank you! Have a nice day!”
I rolled up my window and stared in my rearview mirror to see if this guy was going to come running back to kill me, but after visibly wincing from my well-timed jab, he kept on walking. And walking.
THIS GUY WAS AT LEAST ONE CAR BEHIND THE CAR BEHIND THE MINIVAN I WRONGED!
WTF:
I know my England-style driving and my honk was wrong, but this man had no right whatsoever to get out of his car and talk to me about it! My compound asshole maneuver was absolutely none of his business! This whole fiasco shouldn’t have escalated beyond some turn lane tension between that minivan and me. This guy is obviously a total psycho, and I kind of regret not calling him out on being a shitbreathing jackass for getting involved in other driver’s beefs.
Eventually, the light turned green, and I finally made the turn I’d suffered so dearly to execute. On the other side, I noticed the minivan was driving next to me. I cast a glance to my left to see if the driver was giving me a dirty look, but he was staring straight ahead, not a hint of malice lingering on his visage. He understood, and I’ll forever be grateful for his kindness.
As for the guy who got out of his car to confront me, he should’ve known better than to mess with me. I may not confront other drivers, but I have no problem outing unjustified driving aggressors on the Internet.
What was your most epic asshole driving maneuver? Have you ever gotten out of the car to confront another driver?
