Ooh! I remembered my favourite story!
Way back in the 1980s in Brisbane (in Queensland, Australia)a guy I worked with was riding his motorbike to work when a car cut him off, forcing him to crash rather spectacularly. The car driver saw what had happened, but instead of stopping decided to wave two fingers out the window, yell "sucked in!!" and drive off laughing.
A minor bit of bike damage, a minor bit of rider damage and a lot of angst was caused.
HOWEVER....
The rider did manage to get the guy's number plate and had a friend on the police force.
This being Queensland, where the cops are notoriously, ahem, open to suggestion, he had no problems at all getting the driver's name and address.
So later that night his phone rings and he hears a voice: "Hello, is this (insert wanker's name)? Hi, I'm the guy who was riding the black Ducati you ran off the road today. I'm just letting you know that it might not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but one day I'm coming for you when you least expect it."
This went on for YEARS.
The guy changed his number, tried apologising, pleading, threats, moving house, going to a private number, but he was always tracked down and taunted.
Every few weeks or months the Duke rider would be out on the drink, spot a payphone and make a call. Regardless of the time.
The last time I saw him (in the late 90s) I asked if he still called.
His eyes lit up as he realised he hadn't called the bloke in a few years and still had his number.
He got as far as: "Hello, is this..."
I could here the anguished scream from the other side of the table.
(Apologies for length, but it's just not a short story)
( difficultchild, Thu 19 Oct 2006, 3:37, Reply)