Road rage before breakfast, then some sensible porridge walnuts and honey.

The other day I was involved in a spat of road rage. I wasn't the raging one, but I did feel pretty aggrieved that someone felt that they could raise their voice to me. Nor was I the one driving dangerously/aggressively. I did beep at the other driver's behavior (in a car park) at which point he got out of the car and started shouting.

"Don't you beep at me! Don't you fucking beep at me!"

He was probably in his mid-fifties, stood about 5'6'' tall weighing in a about 170 lbs, portly, not athletic, with a white handlebar mustache rolled up shirt sleeves to show off his blurry tattoos, an open collar to show off his flattened herringbone gold chain that snaked over a rug of white chest hair. Maybe he was older than think. He walked around to the driver side window eyeballing me. I stayed in the car and lowered the window enough to hear him and look like I was legitimately interested in what he had to say, but probably not enough that he could reach in the car. I suddenly felt a conflict between being very much restrained by my seat belt and the desire not to look like I was taking off my seat belt to confront him. I figured it would pan out like this: He would shout at me; I would make small slow nods but wouldn't appear too supplicant to him, he is after all, behaving like an ape. Then he would get back in his car and drive away.

"Don't you beep at me! Don't you ever beep at me again, d'ya hear me?"

I'm tempted to hit the horn at this point, but instead, considering I've never met him before and will probably never meet him again I simply say,

"Okay, I'll never beep at you again. Do you know what you did?"

That last sentence didn't help the situation. He started to go purple and repeat himself further. You'll excuse me if I don't write it out again. By that stage there was a queue of cars behind me trying to get out of the car-park and the bus couldn't leave, because his car was blocking the exit. I'd made a decision, unless he attacked me or the car, I wasn't getting out. This is my neighborhood after all and I didn't want to be seen brawling in the train station car park if I could avoid it.

After pumping out his sentence a few more times. He walked away eyeballing me then called me a rude word for a lady part and thanked the bus driver for waiting. Which just goes to show just because you're acting like a thug is no excuse for not having good manners.  He then drove off and was held up for another ten minutes as the level crossing barriers came down.

I joined the queue behind him with the bus between us. I started to think about what made him so angry. Surely he didn't go from a state of tranquil morning contemplation to Dr Bruce Banner's angrier id because I beeped at him. He had been driving aggressively and widely in he car-park (hence my beeping) so I assume he was late for work. Perhaps the the person he dropped off at the train station delayed him. As a counter factual, it's an interesting potential chain reaction considering what could happen if I had been in a fightin' sort of mood¹.

Breakfast was when I considered the what ifs over porridge with walnuts and at least a table spoon of honey. He had only shouted and used bad language, that doesn't mean you can't stand up to people who are loud and verbally abusive, but in the context of a one off I still feel it was better not to escalate the situation in to a mêlée. If he had damaged the car, well that damage to private property. Had he attacked me? I'm young enough and fit enough to fight him off assuming he fights fair and isn't a master at Krav Maga². So the biggest risk was his age weight advantage and agitated state³. I reckon I could've had him.

Lets be havin' ya.

1. I am only ever in a fightin sort of mood if I'm in a whiskey drinkin' sort of mood earlier, and since this took place at 07:30 hrs; there is no earlier.
2. Anyone will tell you Krav Maga has nothing to do with a fair fight, and more about just repeatedly punching someone's testicles until they give up their homeland.
3. Seriously I thought there was a chance he could have a heart attack. Not something I wanted to be responsible for.