Lady, Just Get Back in Your Car

I read this joke a couple of days ago on the internet.

A man is driving his five-year-old to a friend's house. Suddenly, another car speeds in front and cuts them off. They almost have an accident. "Douchebag!" the father yells. A moment later, he realises the indiscretion, pulls over, and turns to face his son. "Your father just said a bad word," he says. "I was angry at that driver, but that was no excuse for what I said. It was wrong. But just because I said it, it doesn’t make it right, and I don’t ever want to hear you saying it. Is that clear?" His son looks at him and says, "Too late, Douchebag."

*****

It seemed like the perfect segue into an event that happened to me last week. Last week, I was on my way to pick up my two dogs from the groomer. She likes cash payments (of course), so I stopped off at the flexiteller to get the money out.

Mission accomplished, I got back into my car. I gave way to this black Ute that was passing and thought nothing of it. Utes or utility vehicles, to be more precise, have seating for two and then a tray at the rear of the car. Think of a baby pickup truck that hasn't grown up yet.

They are a favoured mode of transport among all the yobos who seem to inhabit the suburbs near where I live.

They’re either dropped so low that they have to crawl to avoid scraping the underside, or they’re souped up to the tune of a small mortgage.

The yobos love to gather in small groups. They pop the bonnet and check out what’s inside. Then, they rev the engine with excitement. “Yep, your Ute has an engine, Einstein, well done!”

This Ute had seen better days. A big scratch down the side and a broken taillight. Not up to the bogan standard.

The street with the flexiteller has about four crossroads. Each one has a stop sign for my road. After about the third one, the Ute stopped, and a lady got out and came up to my window.

"Do you got a problem?” she says to me.

“No, not at all,” I reply.

“Then why are you following me?” she accuses.

“Lady, I am not going to follow you; it is a public road in case you haven't noticed. I have just as much right to use this road as you do.”

“Well, you had better watch it or I will report you."

“Report me for what, using a public road?”

With that, she gets back in her car, but not before taking a photo of my license plate on her phone.

This woman is crazy, I said to myself. She was either not well or on drugs. I didn’t want to upset her further, so I turned left. I planned to go around the block and let her get ahead.

Road rage is very common in Australia. Recent surveys show that over 80% of drivers have dealt with aggressive behaviour. This includes yelling and rude gestures. This is an 18% increase since 2021. Almost half of drivers admit to being aggressive themselves. Common triggers include tailgating, poor driving, and perceived rudeness. In some cases, this has led to violence and people presenting knives and other weapons.

I've never had much luck. Even though I tried to steer clear, there she was again when I got back on the road. We went through any number of sets of lights and then got caught at a red light.

To my horror, she gets out again. Same story.

“Why are you following me? I told you not to follow me.”

“Lady, I am not following you. We just happen to be going in the same direction on the same road. Get back in your car. Pull your head in and get over it.”

The lights had turned green, and cars behind me started to sound their horns in frustration.

As she got back in her car, she gestured with two fingers to her eyes and then to me as if to say, “I’m watching you.”

I could not resist. I repeated the gesture to her but flipped her the bird as a punctuation mark.

She turned off at the next road, never to be seen again. Thank goodness.

Till next time,

Calvin