Some people love their cars too much.
Once I gently bumped into the back of another car. It was dark, raining hard and I was trying to see if traffic was coming in the lane I was trying to pull into.
The chap in front moved on, and I pulled out without noticing until just a little bit too late that he had stopped again. So, brakes fully on but not stopping in time. 'Bump'.

So there I am, sitting in the car and the bloke from the car in front immediately leaps out, runs to the back of his car and searches for damage. Then then comes over to my car and starts shouting at me and hurling abuse etc.
I'm a little shocked but quite calm, but this bloke is being somewhat abusive; much more so than the situation demands. He's telling me how stupid I am and asking if I'm some kind of arsehole and so on.
At this point I get out of the car and stand up next to him. I'm 6'2" and a good foot taller than this bloke. For some reason me standing up in front of him stretched to my full height seems to calm him down a bit, and he starts to be more agreeable.

I quickly check the damage to my car and then have a look at the back of his. When looking at his car I notice the baby on the back seat. The bloke hadn't even checked to see if the baby was okay before rushing out to check his precious car. It's at this point I realise the man is a twunt of the highest order.

And of course it turns out that his car only ended up with scratched paint whilst mine had a lovely broken headlight. Where's the justice in that?
( wheelybird mreee!, Fri 13 Oct 2006, 9:35, Reply)