Perhaps I've let it slip here that I do not suffer tailgaters gladly.
I'm not talking about those fun-loving, perhaps borderline alcoholic, sports fans who roast a pig (sorry, University of Arkansas), or grow, harvest, and grind wheat into flour to make their own pasta primavera, or serve up an elegant herb-crusted rack of lamb from the blacktop backlot of a football stadium. They can stand clear. I have no business with them today.
No, I'm jawing about the aggressive folks in tiny sardine-can cars who lodge their front bumper under my back one and hang on like an acrophobic to a guard rail on top of the Grand Canyon. Please note that I do not try to shake them loose. In fact, I grow more cautious. They are dangerous, you see, there in my partial blind spot, weaving in and out like they're threatening to pass on curvy two-lane blacktop. I know they're not going anywhere. Not until I get out of the way. There's no reason to speed up. I could approach the sound barrier, and they would want to go hit warp speed.
Yes, I grow more cautious. I drive the speed limit. Not a mile per hour over. Obey the letter of the law. To be safe, you see. Twenty miles per hour? I shall not be racing through the subdivision at twenty-one. Speed kills, jerk! Just ask Jamie Lee Curtis's sidekick in Halloween. I'm not a taillight-flasher or a brake-slammer. I simply drive at the legally-posted speed. Some might call me passive-aggressive. I prefer to call me alive.
The Pony is onto Val's Rules of the Road. He actually created a slogan for me during today's game of tortoise and cheetah.
"Following the law just to annoy people behind you. The best America has to offer."
LOL that's EXACTLY what I do when I get a tailgater. I'm usually a speedster (but I am conscientious enough to not ride bumpers, I promise!), but when I get the impatient jerk who wants to go faster than me and tries to bully me by riding my bumper, I become oh-so-aware of the speed limit and slow down. The more you tailgate me, the more determined I am to stick to the speed limit.
ReplyDeleteI have been driving for many, many years and have never even been in a fender bender. And yes, I drive the speed limit or within 5- 8 km. Tailgaters will have a special hell.
ReplyDeleteI slow down to the speed limit as well. I always assume that if they're right on my rear end, they must want to chat with me, so I sloooow down, allowing them to send any "messages" they have for me.
ReplyDeleteYep, those kind of tailgaters are just idiots!
ReplyDeletePig roasting tailgaters have their own place at the party. Tailgaters in the rearview don't. How about clicking on the hazard lights to back them off, reporting them as drunk drivers,or just laugh at their ineptness then get off the road out of their way.
ReplyDeleteLast night a guy rode my bumper giving me the finger. Nice!
ReplyDeleteChick,
ReplyDeleteSee? We are all about safety. We should be safety monitors of the road, with special orange vests for our cars, and a horn that sounds like a whistle attached to our rear bumper.
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Birdie,
Wait! They're not special! They'll have to go to the same Not-Heaven as the regular do-badders. Can't give them a special place, or they'll be wanting beer instead of ice water.
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Sioux,
Hey, I think Linda got the message meant for YOU!
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Becky,
Yes, I hardly think they're in a hurry to mail their MENSA dues.
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Leenie,
I've thought of sticking my phone out the window, facing back, so they think I'm taking their picture and license number. However...since I don't want to be rammed, I refrain.
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Linda,
Wow! That's hard-core. Angering unhinged tailgaters. Just one more thing you excel at. Thank goodness it isn't using prepositions to end sentences with.