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This is a question Road Rage

Last week I had to stop a guy attacking another one in the middle of the road - one had run the lights whilst on the phone and the other had objected. I actually had to take the attacker's car keys out of their car and tell him he wasn't getting them back till he calmed down.

Looking back on it, I was lucky I was feeling all parental and in control or the situation could have panned out very differently.

Have you lost it on the roads, or have you been on the recieving end of some nutter?

(, Thu 12 Oct 2006, 21:31)
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This question is now closed.

If I were her my response would be

Why don't YOU look where you're going!

I may post an amusing anecdote regarding the complete TWATS on the road later.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 16:17, Reply)
Re cycles
I've been riding a bike for years and have never had an accident, True, drivers are tossers and pedestrians never look where they are going, but I've always known that. So I expect idiots to behave idiotically and I'm not surprised when they do.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 16:00, Reply)
to the twat
who called me a prick as he overtook me on my bike today. i'm quite happy to be a prick if it means:
i'm healthier than you
i can control a car better than you (a couple of hundred yards later he appeared to lose control, on a flat, straight road)
i have more sense than money and therefore don't waste my money chroming up the exhaust and blacking out the windows of my scalmobile
i play music both in cars and whilst on my bike at a volume which still allows me to hear emergency sirens, horns, and most importantly other cars just driving past
i don't feel the need to shout prick at every cyclist i see whilst driving.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 15:41, Reply)
This one goes out to...
This goes out to the pikey little chav in the red corsa 1.1 who cut me up on the roundabout last month almost causing me to crash my beloved superbike.

I piped my horn at you, you little git, because you were in the wrong and you were dangerous. Piping my horn at you does not mean screech to a halt after the roundabout and stride up to me like you’re effing the king of the world, egged on by your idiot friends still in the car. Neither does piping my horn at you mean “come and take a swing at me, I’m your personal punch bag”.

Pikey chav, if you’re reading this… Your hand hurts because it’s a silly idea to punch a biker wearing full leathers and body armour and if you’re wondering why you woke up in the middle of the road it’s because you had a road accident – with my kevlar armoured bike glove to your spotty chin.

I think the cheers from the occupants of the 2 cars behind me were all the justification I needed for that bit of road rage.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 15:03, Reply)
Road Inspired Rage
Ok, this didn't happen to me per se, but it did happen to a friend back when I was in school

I went to a private school y'see so when we all came of age to get our first motorised transport, all the rich kiddies got big fancy motors and I was lumped with the families G reg Astra Merit Estate. It was capable of a whole 50mph and I loved it.

One dude, the schools resident car buff went for a drive with a friend in his Rover somethingorother saloon with the spoiler and alloys and big engine. And he wrecked it going around a corner. Now we all knew the roads around the area, and when he reported that "it was a really tight corner, I must have just lost traction" we decided to check out the crash site.

It was decided that the only possible way for anyone to come off at that corner regardless of speed or type of car was if they were
a) Lighting a Cigarette
b) Having a moment with Mrs.Palm and her sisters
c) Sucking off the guy in the passenger seat
d) were, in fact, not in the car but standing outside as it was pushed down the hill.

Of course when our reasons were explained to this young man, he promptly tried to lamp us then went off to cry.

Oh yes, and the passenger decided to sue him.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:50, Reply)
This deserves it's own book!
SO to recap:

We have several excellent bits of advice on how to exact sweet, sweet revenge on the arse-HOLES who use the road incorrectly.

We have several excellent bits of advice on how to stay calm in the car whilst dealing with the other bollock-bandits who are unclear on how to drive in the appropriate manner.


The Man in Charge needs to write a book on this. Molto velocemente.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:26, Reply)
I will admit to just doing some utterly horrible driving, swerving all over the road and cutting people up

good job I was only playing Mariokart, that red shell I launched up his arse taught him

(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:25, Reply)
Actually, following up on my previous story...
...something equally silly happened to my ex-girlfriend, who also cycles. No, that's not how we met. We're not that sad.

She was cycling down the road to head to her Mum's when a man steps out from between two parked cars to cross the road.

A blind man.

A blind man with a stick.

A blind man with a stick who crossed the road from between two cars.

Who, once my ex had screeched to a halt and narrowly missed him, decided to scream abuse at her for watching where she was going and having more care.

Her view on this is that the guy may well have been blind, but he had a stick, and he would've been able to tell he was crossing from between two parked cars.

Initially I thought, "Well no, because the two cars wouldn't impact his visibly because he hasn't got any." But it's not his visibly that was the problem, it was hers - she couldn't see he wanted to cross the road. So it wasn't her fault, was it?

He still kicked up a fuss, and my ex says if she sees him again she's not bothered if she stops or not.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:23, Reply)
Reedkiller (from page 2) what the fuck was a sheep doing riding a motorcyle....
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:04, Reply)
Bike Rage
So there I was, riding pretty fast (as usual) through Clapton, Hackney on my beautiful '04 Norco One25 (highest spec'd 125 in london i'll 'ave you know) when this car pulls, no, shoots out of a petrol station with zero warning, straight into where i'm riding
I swung the bike round the car but clipped its front and went soaring through the air.

So i'm prrretty damn pissed already at being knocked off my bike by an idiot driver. But hey, it's london, it happens.

As I get up off the floor, the car door opens and this short, loud woman gets out and starts screaming at me -


That was it.
I camly dust myself off, pick up my colossal Abus D-lock, slowly walk up to her car and smash it riiight through the front windscreen.
And she just stopped, and then just as she was about to scream at me again
I put it through the passenger window.
Then the back windows.
Followed by the drivers window.

And she just stood there, with her jaw open, speechless.

Then I picked up my bike and rode off. (bike was fine :D)
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:04, Reply)
Just a couple of thoughts
How to get your road-calm on. AKA "carma".

When parking in a supermarket, dont worry about parking near the entrance, worry about parking near the place where the trolleys go to later - the little 'shelters' they get returned to. You'll see why when you get back to the car with your shopping. If its too far to walk to the supermarket entrance - you are a lazy sod, and you need the exercise. You have zero excuse for parking in disabled/mother&baby spots. If other people do that, let them, ignore them. You are better than they are.

When going to the petrol station, remember that with most cars, if you park within a foot of the pump or so, the pipe will reach the far side of the car easily. You never need to queue for a pump on the 'right' side of the car. People who do that are called 'stupidheads'. Believe me, pulling up to an empty pump, casually filling up ON THE WRONG SIDE!!!!, paying and returning to your car and catching the eye of the people who are still queuing is one of the greatest pleasures you can experience. Allow yourself a small, but satisifed grin.

For one week only - drive at the speed limit. Seriously. I know you all speed really. But just try it. Your petrol consumption will decrease, you will learn to ignore the people behind you. Dont be rude, dont be an idiot, just try it. Try to not ever over-rev the engine, no speeding away from junctions. It will change your life, I promise you. The world went and got itself in a hurry.

Dont hold and talk into a mobile whilst driving. Everyone hates you if you do. It's really dangerous. If you dont believe me, drive behind someone who's doing it. It's scary. If you run over someone whilst doing this you're going to jail. You wont sleep well for many years. If you are the sort that does this, feels the need for constant re-assurance by phoning people all day, seek help. You have insecurity issues.

Dont drink alcohol, of any amount and then go driving on that day. Seriously. You might not know it, but you are not a good driver. You are a terrible driver after a pint. Yes 1 pint. Or a glass of wine. It really *wont* be ok. You are a better person than that.

See? Its all good. Mostly.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:04, Reply)
CherryB, don't know if that is an urban myth
but it is very like a scene from "Fried Green Tomatoes" a sickly sweet US chick-flick starring Kathy Bates (look it up on IMDB). Kathy's character is in a supermarket car park, about to reverse into a parking space, when some pretty young girls in a smaller car, sneak into the place. When the Bates character complains, the young girls say something along the lines of "we can do this because we're young and quick". Bates then calmly gets into her much larger than theirs station wagon and proceeds to smash into the smaller car. She then leans out of her window and says something along the lines of "I can do this because I am heavily insured". Sorry to piss on your bonfire but a good story nonetheless.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 14:01, Reply)
I cycle to and from work (that is, when my bike is in working order). I recall cycling home home day and coming towards me was a red car being driven by a Cretinous Moron who had realised that I have ginger hair and, not wanting me to go through my life being unaware of this vital piece of information, deemed it necessary to shout it to me out of his window. He mis-pronounced the Gs, although I think that's a mental handicap.

Naturally, my response to this was to thank him with a one-finger salute, at which point he turned his car around and started driving alongside me, shouting abuse.

"'O you givin' the finga to, eh?" he asked. Definitely a mental problem.
"You," I replied.
"You wanna get y'self off the faken road, ma'e," he said.
"I have as much right to be here as you do," I insisted.
"Fuck off," he shouted.
"I'm sorry if my presence somehow offends you," I sighed. "I'm sorry if I'm taking up your apparently precious roadspace. But I can see that there's more than enough space for both my bike and your poxxy red Ford Fiesta."
"Fuck off, fuckin' ginger."

At this point he drove off, shouting "Stupid gingers stink of piss!". This was about a year ago and I've not seen him again, so I assume that his Social Worker has put him back in his cage.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 13:59, Reply)
NOT road rage
Elaine - piss off re my spelling!

(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 13:57, Reply)
A similar thing happened to me two weeks ago. Twas a lovely september day, and muggins here had slept in for work by about 6 hours. Rang and explained and got told "fair enough see ya tomorrow". Owner rang half hour later an said "We're up shit creak, Strider can ya get in an give us a hand". "No bother" said I.

I live on the outskirts of my town, about two minutes walk from two secondary schools, both situated at the top of a hill. The main road into town goes down this hill. Being extremely nervous about reaction to my snoozing, decided to race into town. About half way down the hill I realised as I peddaled like a loon that I was going faster than I'd ever gone on this bike. The road was clear and I relaxed slightly as I picked up even more speed.

At the bottom of the hill, a group of about 15 chavs in school uniforms stood. In groups of five they crossed and disaster struck. First group looked both ways and crossed, second glanced both ways and crossed. Last group walked straight out in front of me without looking. Hit the last chav. With the speed I'd been going at, and seeing the distance I and my bike had been thrown. I honestly thought I'd killed the idiot. When they moved about five years later (or so it felt) the most intense wave of relief. However was still furious for the way they walked out as all that could have been avoided if they opened their eyes.

Saw the same dude I'd hit one day a week after the accident. He looked like a frightened rabbit crossing the road. I'm not really proud of what I did, but if it teaches somebody a lesson......
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 13:18, Reply)
I wouldn't if I was you....
my angelic* (*may contain lies) brother Weazal is not to be messed with when on two (non-motored)wheels.

After returning home on many occasions with tales of, well I can't repeat the actually words for fear of being instantly shunned by polite society, let's just call them "muppets with driving licences" I recall one particular fine example of rider rage on his part.
A motorist had basically rode Weazal in the curb causing him to fall from his bike. After Weazal had worked his way through his set list of words, he picked up his bike and chased after the car which had stopped at a set of traffic lights ahead.
Now the sight of a lanky 37 year old kitted out in shinpads, bash hat and a quite rare model of BMX bike may have been startling enough as it swerves in front of him.
But I think the point at which the guy shat himself was when Weazal got off his bike, picked it up and dumped it on the car's bonnet and enquired in a loud voice
"do you want a closer look mate!"
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 13:06, Reply)
that last story reminds me...
a bloke I used to work with recounted (although I'm not entirely convinced it's not an urban myth) this story to me about an old friend of his who was very wealthy.

This guy was about to reverse-park his Rolls Royce in a side street in London when suddenly a guy in a mini nicks the space he was going for.

The rolls driver gets out and says something along the lines of "I say, that's a bit orf, did'nt you see I was reversing into that space?" to which the mini driver replies "that's what you can do when you drive a small car mate!" - and starts to walk off.

So the old boy calmly gets back in his roller and promptly rams the mini up onto the pavement, and parks where the mini was. The mini driver comes back screaming and shouting to which the old boy says "and that my dear fellow is what you can do when your vehy, vehy rich"

I'd imagine he was vehy, vehy drunk as well.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 12:31, Reply)
Not so much road rage but...
i was told a funny story my a mate of my dads in the pub last week or at least it was funny after a few pints.

back in the swinging sixties my dads mate Ken had bough a rusty old morris minor for his first car and was driving it home for the first time.

now from Ken's description this car was in REALLY bad condition, mot's were introducted in 1960 but this car hadn't been used for a while and looked like an obsolute death trap but it was all he could afford and he needed a car for his new job.

so que journey home and Ken has to take this morris minor down a steep hill on the way back to his house, now the hill in question is really steep and has a roundabout and a petrol station at the bottom.

Ken gets about 3/4 of the way down the hill using the brake heavily when theres a snapping noise and the brake pedal goes limp.
luckily no-one infront of him but now he's flying down the remainder of the hill heading for the round-about.

Ken hits the roundabout at about 60mph flys round it and comes off the first exit striaght into the petrol station hitting one of the pump stands.

no fire or anything but the owner of the petrol station comes charging out red faced hurling abuse, gets near to Kens door looking like he's about to kill him shouting "your going to have to pay for that" pulls on the morris minors door handle and the door falls off que Ken replying "well your going to have to pay for that mate!"

like i said probably funnier with a few pints in you and told properly in person but its good to share! :)
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 12:06, Reply)
There I was right....
coming home on the south circular in London, when I hit a queue of traffic before joining the A2. I decided to scream down the lane on the left and cut everyone up on the right, like the kind gentleman I am. As I pulled in I didn't notice the traffic ahead of me had stopped and I had to slam the brakes on quite hard. This (on top of cutting him up) wound the bloke behind me up no end. As we turned the corner onto the A2 he motioned me to unwind the window. Cracking it about an inch I ask him how he was doing. He replied with the question, 'How would you like it if I cut your fucking thoat'.

Thinking for a second or two for a witty retort, I decided not to get him any angrier and let him know I was probably ok for that thanks. He turned right and sped off towards Eltham.

Lucky I decided against the witty retort as I was then stuck on the A2 for about 2 1/2 hours . Enough time for him to acomplish the before mentioned throat cutting.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 11:51, Reply)
Good idea. I have some too. Including Satan the Driving examiner who tried to kill me.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 11:42, Reply)
air gun twunts
he did seem to be quite creative with his epithets, mind you if some spoiled little wankers had been shooting at me with an airgun and i made their location i'd probably still be in prison wanking over pictures of their corpses.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 11:36, Reply)
Rage, but not much roads
I used to live in a flat with a balcony that looked over a railway line and the back of a Sainsburys where lorries would unload their overpriced produce.

I got home from work one night to find my flatmate and his mate lying, sniper style, on the balcony taking potshots at the lorry drivers with airguns. Because of the range and the crapness of the guns they weren't having much joy, but were still finding it amusing and giggling lots. Said flatmate started lobbing shots (in a mortar stylee) at one of the drivers. This evidently has more effect as one of them starts jumping around like his arse is on fire.

We noticed the police turning up, so they hid all the guns and ammo and totally denied having anything to do with shooting the driver. The copper had nearly fallen for it when he spotted the lid of a pellet tin and dragged the flatmate off to slap his wrist.

So where's the rage? Well, when the police man was questioning us on the balcony about the air guns and that, the lorry driver was stood on the opposite side of the railway tracks shouting (amongst other things):

"You little bastards, you fucking shot me! I'm going to come round there and pull your ears off."

"You're lucky there's a railway line here, or I'd come over there and shove that airgun up you arse, then shoot your fillings out."

"I'll break all the bones in your body, tie you to a post and let my kids play swingball with you!"

"I'm going to come over there, drag you out of your house and resurface this carpark with your chipped teeth"

I dread to think what this guy would have done if I'd have cut him up while changing lanes.

Thing was I was listening to the driver's imaginitive threats a bit more than the policeman, which made me start gigling (the one about swingball in particular). The policeman didn't appreciate this much so ended up having to calm the guy down by shouting across the railway tracks (which made it all the funnier in my head... I was a bit cained).

Laugh? I thought my pants would never dry.

Edit: I didn't pull any triggers myself. After 7 months of living with a sadistic flatmate I would have liked to see what would have happened had the lorry driver put some of his threats into action. Only because in the time we shared a flat I got painted blue, knocked unconscious twice, rolled in broken glass, had a rib broken, got shot in the arse (with an airgun), had my bed puked in and had my toaster violated... all by the same guy.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 11:28, Reply)
Freeport Rage!
Freeport, as many or none of you will know, is a chain of ‘Designer Outlet Villages’ in which you can go and purchase last year’s lines at knock down prices.

Or, if you want to look at them a different way – Chav Magnets.

Add to the mix a healthy dose of Essex (Christ – Escorts in the last post and Essex in this one – what will the people think) – and it can only be a recipe for disaster!

I’d nipped up there with Mum so I could pick up a couple of nice but cheap shirts for work, and it being a Saturday, the car park was quite full, until:

“There, dear Mater!” say I “A space yonder!” And in we go, and all is well. Except for the fat, toothless, gold plate ear-ringed, greasy haired BINT in her Vauxhall Nova (or whatever those ghastly people drive) who decides to have a go at my poor old Mum for parking her car in “Her Spot”. Mum (being Mum) is lost for words – but me, I’m a mouthy git sometimes, and I leap out of the car:


To which I receive the devastatingly witty response:


Oh, very clever… Attack me because I wear glasses…

“Listen, you fat bitch” (I may be paraphrasing) “There’s a million parking spaces, all of which have your name on except this one. Turn your big arse around, and go and find another one, and let’s all leave this here.”

Which is followed by various and unconvincing threats of violence (from her), and me and my mother going to a respectable place to get shirts.

The moral of the story being – don’t EVER go to a Freeport. It’s bad.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 11:06, Reply)
Two things.
I am driving slowly down a small road in the centre of Lincoln three years ago.

A lot of wrinklies live up this way and there is a traffic light at the bottom of the road so I was luckily slowing down.

A chap waiting to cross looks left, then right, right in to my eyes. He looks left again then right.. and as I close in on him he crosses the fucking road and I stop about 1/2 inch from him, to which he starts berating me. I was so shocked I couldn't even come up with a retort.

Also I'm at the the traffic lights late one night as two young lovelys cross in front... thinking I'm sat with my best mate I say "Cold Out" refering to the four chapel hat pegs leading the way across the road. To which my girlfriend punches me in the balls... she said it was only a light hearted punch but it really hurt... is that road rage ?
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 10:51, Reply)
1st post!

was even funnier when it was in FHM and you even managed to miss the punchline off whereby the learner stalls it again and the policeman who's left the loudspeaker on by mistake says to his mate: "look the dozy twunts done it again'

(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 10:44, Reply)
Deathbike 9000
Before I got my first car, a smelly old V reg Corsa that has an uncanny resemblance to the car I learned to drive in, my main mode of transport was my pushbike. I'd regularly cycle the 7 miles to my job stacking shelves at ASDA or to school and so on. Unfortunately the main road I travelled on was also the main route for Lorries headed out to Kelty or Dunfermline from Stirling. Oh fun.

One day, having successfully managing to play bicycle frogger with the lorries all the way into town, I begin to relax.

Then some wee shite (funny to say that, back then they were older than me)decides to not check who's coming along as he pulls out of parking by the side of the road and comes straight at me.

I think I uttered something like "Oh holy crapfuck" before going flying over the handlebars and roof of the tin plated A reg Nova with the baked bean can exhaust to make it sound bigger.

My bike was ruined, the front forks were bent back and stripped of paint, the front wheel was in several pieces, many of which were spokes in my legs (ouch btw). I had the satisfaction that in its death throws my bike had wreaked some havok and done a can opener job on the bonnet and windshield of the twunts car. It was like a can of sardines made of Vauxhall.

It turned out this guy (who asked if I wanted him to call an ambulance at least) lived in my village, 3 months later in his brand spanking new Renault 5 with the white spoiler and overrated sound system was driving down the main road of the village when his brakes failed and he went headfirst into a lamppost. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt, so was propelled out through the windshield and hit the lamppost with his head, which exploded.

Seatbelts are there for a reason y'know.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 10:23, Reply)
Driving tests
Perhaps we could have a qotw on driving tests? I've got a ton of stories on them, like failing for getting attacked by a horse. And once I'd failed, telling the examiner I was "going down the marina to do some handbrake turns".
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 10:06, Reply)
He had it coming...
I failed my driving test twice, admittedly the first time because I went all batshit crazy and panicked.

But the second time, well that's a story. I was failed because I was overtaken by a builders pickup doing about 60 in a residential school district with lots of lovely 20 mph signs everywhere. Yeah "Failure to maintain the proper flow of traffic" - instant fail.

When I found out I gave that fat string vest wearing examiner an earful, probably didn't help me any but made me feel better. I swear being trapped in an old V reg Corsa with a sweaty, farting old man is not an experience I ever want to relive.
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 9:59, Reply)
Oooh, it makes me mad!
Every single day when I’m trying to cross the road motorists either totally ignore me or deliberately try to run me over. I can count the number of mates of mine who have come a cropper through absolutely no fault of their own.

I’m getting so mad that one day soon I’ll show one of the buggers! I’ll puncture their sodding tyres with my prickles. HA! That’ll show them….

Harry Hedgehog
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 9:59, Reply)
i love
pulling people over who don't indicate coming off roundabouts and hence nearly run me over and politely and apologeticly warning them that their left indicator is broken...........
(, Wed 18 Oct 2006, 8:40, Reply)

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