An apology. 6/26/2007
I guess I owe you some sort of apology.
I mean, the gap that you left between your car and the car in front was well over 30 meters. I signalled my intention to lane change, and did so in the proper manner.
I guess I must have upset you some, because you were speeding up to try and close the gap, and then flashed your high beams to show me that you were somewhat annoyed.
I think there was really no need for you to start flashing your high beams contimously at me while I was keeping pace with the traffic in front. It isn’t really my fault you were dreaming and didn’t stay with the pace of traffic.
I definitely know that there wasn’t a call for you to start tailgating me, and showing me the right side of your car, like you were in this really fast car trying to get past on the highway. We were in the middle of the city, and it was rush hour. There really isn’t any place to go fast at that time of day.
I know you think that little local made piece of shit car you’re driving is shit hot. It’s probably your pride and joy, even though you are in hock to the finance company for the next 9 years, and paying for that car probably takes a hefty chunk out of your salary.
I know you think you’re a really hot driver as well, but you obviously didn’t think about what it was your were very dangerously tail gating in rush hour traffic, and the kind of engine it has, and what it weighs.
I know you didn’t think that the driver behind the wheel of the big diesel, i.e. me, had any kind of driving skills to speak of, or that I would be easily intimidated. I guess after you’ve shared a race track in competition with 2 men who went on to become World Champions, nothing intimidates you anymore on the road.
I think you really don’t have any knowledge of the characteristics of vehicles, and how to use their engines effectively, or that diesels have enormous amounts of engine braking available on the downshift.
I guess you also didn’t notice the tow ball at the back of the vehicle you were following so very closely, trying to intimidate the driver.
I think you might have pissed your pants when the big truck in front of you went from 90 km/h to walking pace in the space of a heart beat, without the brake lights flashing. I did see you trying to swerve, and you realising you had no where else to go in the heavy traffic.
I guess the crumple zone at the front of your car did its job, and I guess the mess from the top of your radiator being torn off by the tow ball will eventually evaporate from the road.
I don’t really care that your car is probably damaged enough that it will have to be in the workshop for the next 6 weeks while your insurance company goes through the motions. A few more scratches on the truck’s rear bumper is really neither here nor there for me. All I have to do is throw the keys to the Admin executive in the company and say to him, “get it fixed.”
Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sorry at all.