It Finally Happened: A Cager Made Me Lose My Cool

After 10 months of riding and suppressing the need to use single-digit hand signals, it finally happened. This was so lame, I couldn’t help myself. ARRRRGH! Not proud of myself, but couldn’t help it either. Picture it: I’m cruising down the road on the Fat Lady, minding my own business and rockin’ out to some tunes on my Otterboxed iPod when a little white speck of a boat of a cager (grandpa car…) about 7 seconds up ahead cuts across the opposing two lanes of traffic and heads for the suicide lane that divides their half of the road from mine. I see him, I switch lanes to be proactive about staying out of trouble and keep on cruising along. I don’t know why I had lost track of him, maybe it was because there was other traffic to pay attention to or maybe I had decided he wasn’t a threat to me, but next I notice him he’s left the suicide lane and is in the process of crossing over to the left lane and then the jackass decides the lane I’m in is fair game, too. This maneuver puts his boat of a geezer cage right in front of Hayabusa Girl. I play in traffic with my [get this] middle finger riding shotgun on the front brake lever and I’m glad it’s a habit. I lay into the binders and then swerve to my right, into the right turn lane that had just started (for access to several fast food joints and I-20W. No turn signals, he keeps up and proceeds to occupy the space I had just swerved into. So now the ‘tard’s cut me off TWICE in the space of what 3 seconds??? I’m still somewhat cool at this point, more brake and a downshift later to increase my following distance, I think I got it all back under control and here comes his TURN SIGNAL. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! No! You DID NOT JUST cut across 6 lanes of traffic and when you finally reach the lane at the FAR END of the road, you turn on your blinkers? How is that for AFTER THE FACT, you moron! ARGH! There’s a country song in this somewhere: ‘You piss me off, you f’ing jerk, get on my nerves!’ I can’t believe it, I let go of the handlebars and lift both of my arms up, index fingers extended making a point, and shaking both pointed fingers at him, while I’m almost standing on my pegs. I don’t think he even notices me. I see him speeding up and turning onto the onramp for I-20W and I can’t help myself. I roll on the gas, fly around the corner, start to pass him on the inside, but think better of it and wait until I’m straightened back out and fully on the acceleration lane, I crank it open, shift twice, pass him on the right. I’m in 4th, blowing past him at around 90 and make it a point to be in HIS space and here comes the clutch hand, up and out, middle finger fully extended and I look right at him, giving him the stink eye. I am sooooo pissed! Now I realize I have personalized plates and figure I better get the hell outta there before he can write that shit down. By the time I hit the bottom of the ramp I’m going 120, I’m still pissed, I cut across both lanes and I’m gone! About a mile or so down the road, I finally get it back under control and slow back down to copper friendly compliant speeds. I have video of the jackass. I think I’m gonna run my cam all the time now. Too bad it all is wide-angle (or something) and everything looks like it is three times as far away as it actually is. Kinda like that warning on the right side mirror:’ Objects in mirror are closer than they appear’.

I cannot believe I let this jerk turn me into a squid like anger turns Bruce Banner into the Hulk: ‘Don’t make me squiddy. You won’t like me when I’m squiddy!’

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