Posted by: Paul | July 15, 2010

Road Rage

This morning got off to a bad start.

Our local station has two approach roads, one for each side of the line. On the London-bound side, the road is only wide enough for one car, so you either have to wait at the top to get out, or the bottom to get in if your path is blocked.

After dropping my wife off this morning on my way to take Adam to Grandma and Grandad’s, I turned the car around and proceeded down this narrow lane. I was almost at the bottom when I was met by what I can only describe as a suited thug coming the other way in a red Hyundai Coupé. He was twenty feet from the bottom, I was twenty yards from the top. The logical thing to do would be for him to reverse a few yards and let me out. Oh no.

So we sat there. Staring at each other. I motioned for him to move back. He motioned for me to reverse all the way to the top of the road, that he might pass himself. I leaned out of my window and shouted that I couldn’t do that – the car park at the top was full and for him to get in, I had to get out first. He made a gesture as if to say ‘I can’t hear you’, and then again aggressively motioned for me to move back.

At this point I thought ‘I’m not playing this silly game’. He clearly wasn’t going to move, despite the ease of doing so. It was now a matter of supreme bloody-mindedness and arrogance. I mounted the kerb, squeezed round, and with an unpleasant exchange on the way past I was gone.

I hate moments like that. It took me a good ten minutes to calm down. My mood was broken by Adam piping up from the back seat, saying ‘Daddy driving!’

Yes Adam. If only other people could do the same.

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