Riding My Rear

One of the few times I find myself laughing maniacally is when someone is driving me behind me very closely and I pretend they do not exist. These people think that if they are less than twelve inches behind my bumper, I will quickly accelerate. How wrong they are...

However, I refuse to yield to their demands. If someone wants to drive twenty or more miles over the speed limit, they should not drive behind me. For fear of being pulled over by Suwanee's Police force (which is massive and omniscient), I do not drive more than ten miles per hour over the speed limit. No one needs to drive that fast. If someone is late or in a hurry, that is not my responsibility. He or she should have left home earlier.

Needless to say, I did not feel bad when I left my house this morning to deal with one of these rushed people. When I pulled out of my neighbourhood, I checked to see if anyone was coming. I saw a car off in the distance, but pulled out anyway, since the car was far away. In a few seconds, that car was on top of me. He rode even closer to my rear bumper than most cars do. If I had to stop for any reason, he would have smashed into me on the spot, with no chance of not hitting me.

I responded in my classic form. I gradually started slowing down. I was going 45 miles per hour on a road with a current speed limit of 35 miles per hour. I slowly reached 30 miles per hour. I could see the driver behind me very clearly. He was shouting curse words and waving his hands about. I begin laughing. He pulled his vehicle over the yellow line a little bit so I could see him yelling more clearly. I heard muffled yells through my window as he stuck his head out of his to yell some more. At that point, my laughing was nearly hysterical.

When I reached the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction. Like all of these drivers, when he was able to pass me, he floored his gas pedal and made angry middle-finger gestures at me while speeding away.

Just a week ago, something similar happened. It had different results, however. That time, I was on a two-lane highway with much different speed limits than my small road outside of my neighbourhood. I was driving my mother's white suburban. This SUV's acceleration is horrendous and it's manoeuvrability is worse. The young girl who gave me grief was probably my age. She drove a white Mazda. Probably a 2008 model. I like white Mazdas. In another place and time, we might have been able to be friends. But not on I-75.

The highway was filled with eighteen-wheelers that day. Since the highway had only two lanes at this point, if one wanted to speed up and pass traffic, one would have to use some impressive driving skills and dodge giant trucks and small speedy cars all at the same time.

I was behind a truck and had a truck to my right as I was trying to move forward in traffic. Behind me was the young girl who really had somewhere to be. She would not get off of my back. I was not in a good mood, so when I was able to move forward and there was an open spot, I accelerated on purpose in the perfect intervals to block her from advancing. I would not let her get into the left lane and pass me. I used the giant trucks to block her and we played this game for quite a while. I could see her in her car, maintaining her cool. She had a determined face, different than the usual frustrations that I see, generally coupled with yelling and arm-waving. Finally, the two of us passed all of the trucks. It was just the two of us, about to engage in an all-out race. I was in the left lane and she was in the right. Both of us started accelerating. We were about even with each other. I could see her face clearly as she tried to pass me. Just as clearly as she could see mine.

Suddenly, I saw a motorcycle parked on the side of the road ahead. Realising what this meant, I immediately decelerated, removing my foot from the gas pedal and applying the brake. I looked over at the girl and saw a grin appear over her face. Just before she passed me, she pointed directly at me with her finger and said something. She appeared to be saying something like "Gotcha", but I'll never know for sure. She sped ahead of me and changed lanes. She didn't see the motorcycle. I knew what was about to happen.

The blue lights shined brightly as the policeman mounted his bike and began following that white Mazda. I saw her pull over and the policeman get off his bike to give her a speeding ticket. At her speed, I think that the ticket was very expensive. She might have even lost her license.

I laughed to myself for the remainder of my drive. I can still see her grin as she passed me. I wish I could see her face when she saw the blue lights. She should have been aware of her surroundings.

Don't ride my rear.