Sunday, 13 December 2009

Canadian road rage

I was on the approach to the bridge when I stopped for a pedestrian waiting at the crosswalk. The pedestrian gave me a 'Thank you" wave and started across the road.

The car behind me gave me a "What the hell are you stopping for" honk, and decided to drive the point home by laying on the horn.

I just shook my head, and when the pedestrian made it safely to the other side, I merged onto the bridge, as did the horn blaster from behind me. You would have thought stopping for a pedestrian was the absolute worst thing a person could have done, as Mr. Horn Blaster carried on with his road rage episode -- driving mere centimetres between our bumpers. Hey buddy, are you trying to hitch a ride?

Mr. HB then zoomed out from behind me and moved in for the pass. I closed the screen on my computer and made sure to lean back in my seat so the shoulder flash on my uniform wasn't visible from the side, and I waited to see what he would do.

Mr. Horn Blaster drove up beside me, shook his fist at me, and if my ability to read lips is accurate, Mr. HB told me to fornicate with an inanimate object. Classy guy.
Mr. HB then raced down the bridge deck at, oh, 30 kms over the speed limit.
Too bad he didn't take the time to look closer at the unmarked vehicle he had passed. If he had, he may have noticed the tinted windows, the telltale hockey-puck-style antennae on the roof and the blacked out wheels.

I waited until we were almost off the bridge before I hit the lights. When I did,
there was a noticeable slump in Mr. HB's posture in response to the red and blue flashing through the interior of his car.

But, like a typical useless cop, she let him off.