Road RageLast 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?
(
chthonic, Thu 12 Oct 2006, 21:31)
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A bridge too far...Holidaying with me mum in lovely Cornwall, we decide to take a trip to Fowey one afternoon for the obligatory cream tea / trip round craft shops expedition. We head off in mum’s car, a sacking great big white pimp-mobile merc (I know, I’m sorry. She’s sold it now, but there’s no excuse). We reach the outskirts of Fowey, where we’re greeted with a sign saying “Car Park – Please park here for Fowey. Don’t drive into the town centre” – or words to that effect. So what does mum do? Totally ignores the sign and ploughs on down a really steep hill into the town. Also ignores my protestations that the sign must be there for a reason and that maybe we should just park there. I have a tendency to obey authority…
“I can see lots of cars parked over there” she says and sets of towards them, across a bridge. The bridge is fairly narrow, about a car width, so she slows down to manoeuvre her way across. Except it’s almost exactly our car’s width and lo, we get stuck. Totally wedged. We’re now blocking the street and somehow seem to be unable to pull forward or back due to a kink in the road. Mum looks at me and utters the immortal words
“Rakky, love, could you get out and try to see how I can work my way out of this?”
“Get out, GET OUT? How the f*ck do you expect me to get out of the f*cking car when you’ve wedged us tight onto this f*cking bridge, mother? Maybe I should climb out of the f*cking sun-roof, hmmm? And if we end up on the f*cking local news because of this I’m never speaking to you again.” Etc, etc etc…
Mum took my tirade pretty well, in fact, she just pissed herself laughing (*). By this time I’m apoplectic with rage, mum’s hysterical and everyone in the pub on the other side of the bridge has come out to have a look at the stupid tourists. With a lot of effort and damage to the paint work we got through, but it took a couple of jam and cream scones before I forgave her. I try to bring it up whenever anyone mentions what a good driver she is.
(*) laughing at the wrong moment is her speciality. Later that week we were out walking and she got a giggling fit as she was hoisting our dog over a style into my arms. She started to laugh, flung the dog at me, knocking me backwards over the fence and into a load of cow shit.
It’s a good job the daft cow’s got a good life insurance policy…
(, Tue 17 Oct 2006, 17:45, Reply)
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