Angry White Man  − 17 July, 2008

Don’t you just love angry white men? Angry because they’re young, or feel entitled, or have been kicked around just a little too much? Guys who drive around in big SUVs, guys who have road rage. Today an angry white man gave me a little adrenaline rush. I was turning right from a side street onto a four-lane surface street (not a highway). I chose to turn just as someone from that street was turning left onto my street. I figured that oncoming traffic would be slowing down for that person, or that perhaps there was a break in traffic.

 

I looked in my rearview mirror, and saw a very large black SUV. It wasn’t especially close, so I didn’t think much of it until it honked at me a couple of times. I gave up my policy of giving the finger to assholes in traffic long ago. So I just let it go. As it passed me on the left, the angry white man screamed something out the window. I’m sure it was pretty nasty, but he was going so fast I couldn’t make it out.

 

He got stuck behind someone turning left at the next light. I drive this road almost every day, so I know to stay in the right lane. I passed him and just as the car in front of him was turning left I got into the left lane -- right in front of the angry white man.  That part of what I did then was not premeditated or malicious. Any of the next three lefts would have worked for me. I decided to wait for the very last one. I drove just a wee bit slower than I might have otherwise. I signaled with plenty of time for him to get into the other lane if he so desired, or to slow down so that he didn’t run into me.

 

The next thing I did appears to have been ill advised. I stuck my left arm out the window and merrily waved at him as I turned left. Whoops! He turned in after me. I had a pretty good feeling that he had changed his plans on my behalf. As I approached the stop sign where I would normally continue straight, I turned left instead. There was no way in hell I was going to lead this now-dangerous ass hole to my house. That’s when the adrenaline kicked in.

 

On a normal day, I could have driven right to the police station. But Art Fair is in town, so everything is a bit more crowded. I decided just to lead him on a merry goose chase until he got tired of it. Fortunately he got tired pretty quickly. When I turned right at the next major road, he turned left to return to the road we had originally been on. Whew! That scared me.

 

I didn’t drive directly home. I didn’t know how serious this asshole was. For all I knew he could be lurking on my street waiting for me to show up. I drove around for a little while, and finally approached my house from the far end of the street. I saw a large dark SUV coming, so I turned right onto a side street and just paused. I watched the SUV, but it was not the angry white man, so I continued around the block back towards my house again. At the same intersection where I had originally turned instead of going straight, I looked around very carefully to see whether the angry white man was waiting. I didn’t see him.

 

I parked a couple houses away from my own. I saw two dark SUVs on our street. I didn’t remember which model had followed me. I walked past my house and checked out the one SUV that looked big enough to have been the angry white man’s. It must’ve been a neighbor’s – it had a baby seat in the back. I went into my house, put my stuff down, and moved our other car onto the street in front of our house. I drove the car that the angry white man could identify into our garage and closed the door.

 

I doubt the angry white man is so angry that he will come back. But what I really don’t need is to have my car or my house firebombed or otherwise manhandled. I think I will keep the cars arranged in this way for a few days, just in case.

 

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