Holiday Fever spawns Glutinous Road Rage

I wrote this back in December but kept it to myself until now for fear of retribution. After some encouragement, I have decided to post it anyway:

WTF over? When did everybody go crazy? OK, maybe not everybody, but two very pissed off SUV drivers in the same day throwing one fingered slogans out the window with lights a flashing and horns a’blaren?! I’m not that much of a hooligan.

Right, so, on this particular morning I was heading to work in my normal fashion, respectful of and willing to work with traffic. Along this mindset, I’m one to be efficient. If everybody works together we all get where we need to go in the quickest way possible. There is usually one person who doesn’t get it though. This one person happened to land in front of me in the shape of a newer Ford Explorer. This Ford Explorer was very sluggish compared with everybody else. Slow to lift off the brakes, slow to depress the right pedal, just slow. So, as is usual in traffic, and not particularly hooligan of me, I jump into the right lane to accelerate to get in front of the explorer and it decides all of a sudden, now is the time to accelerate. I guess it got the hint.

Well, already being at speed and not wanting to look like an idiot I jump in front of it anyway to see it 50 yards down the road larger than life in my rear view mirrors, flashing lights and blaring its horn. We get stopped at a red light – a red light we could have missed had Explorer stayed with the pace, mind you. Through the red light glaring down on me, Explorer hurls insult upon insult at me from behind. Turns out it’s a woman. A very large woman in her 40’s, with crazy hair and those alarmingly puffed out eyeballs some of these alarmingly large people have. It is apparent, even in my very small bar-end mirrors, that all those lipids are squeezing something out somewhere…. Oh, and what a voice! You could have raised ten zombie legions with that voice! “Fucking Moron”. Having been introduced to such situations early on in my riding career I do the only thing I’ve deemed worthy of such a situation, ignore the idiot with my hands politely folded on the tank bag, right foot on the rear brake. As the crossing lane’s light turn yellow I get ready to move.

The green left turn arrow lights up and Explorer lunges forward at me. I stare into the rear-view mirror and promptly drop the clutch once the light turns green, at 6K to get out of her way. If there’s something I know about life it’s to get out of the way of an irate woman, as quickly as possible. I out accelerate her and settle into the right lane and my safety bubble at the speed limit proper (meaning 5+ indicated). I can hear the Explorer groaning under her undoubtedly gelatinous foot, and here it comes blowing past in a frenzy of irrational PMS-holiday-season-crazed rage almost causing the vehicle to roll at her next left turn and cutting off a speeding BMW going the opposite way. Funny how these things don’t happen as often during the rest of the year.

WOW, had she driven like that from the beginning, there would have been no reason for me to pass her.

OK, OK, OK. I was wrong to cut her off. I was wrong to ignore her instead of apologizing. I was a straight up douche bag and asshole… And so, I’d like to differ with her on her categorization of myself. Asshole, Ma’am. Asshole. Not Moron. I knew exactly what I did, why I did it, when I did it, and how I did it. Did she? In addition to those, I also know what/how/when/where she did what she did. What I don’t know is why she did it. Was she asleep and did I do everybody else a favor by waking her up? Was she texting and did I do everybody else a favor by making her mad enough to put the phone down and drive? Was she trying to conserve fuel in her overly large SUV, the only thing big enough to carry her gluttonous body? And did I just do the oil tycoons a favor by having her put her foot down and burn enough gas to run my bike for a week? Yes, I’m pissed off. I see no reason why I should have to be an asshole. I was wrong, I admit it, but why can’t she just own her responsibility on the road? For those of you getting fed up with my repeated references to her “super sized” life style, I have no time for people who are that large. I understand health issues, and don’t mind people on the bigger side, but eventually you get to a point where you simply have to exclaim to high heaven that such consternation shouldn’t be possible!

This attitude is the hateful asshole, the douche bag, neither the Dandy nor the Hooligan approve of. Many years I have tried to tame this beast, but it breaks free every once in a great while when the chains are pulled too tight, and snap. Something in me doesn’t quite want to kill it, for I think it could come in handy in a survival type of situation, but this isn’t one of those.

OK, OK, OK. I know I’m being overly harsh and just plain emotional. It’s what happens when somebody else provides the opportunity for you to see your wrong doings, mistakes, or straight-up ass-holiness. I get self-conscious and embarrassed. I was in the wrong. I messed up. But for the love of a warm-winter’s morning and clean asphalt’s sake, why can’t she drive with the pack and save everybody the aggravation of dealing with her unsightly, unsoundly and generally disgusting presence? Yes, I’m jaded. Yes, I’m an asshole. Hate me if you must.

Fast Forward to that evening. As I’m heading home from hanging out with a great lady, having learned from this mornings experience I take a sharp left hander quite fast to make a light. This light’s intersection is built as a massive hill, one which can cause my bike to fly at some unmentioned instances. But that’s only with gratuitous speed involved. And I don’t speed.

… … … Yea right!

Anyway, it’s apparently enough of a crest to cause an Expedition or Excursion, or some sort of Ford monstrosity to slow down to 5mph. Having crested the hill, it slowly lumbers on. I see no lightening of the front suspension, black clouds of diesel smoke, or a hellacious noise whine coming from this thing. It’s a lumbering beast content on lumbering along.

I take the left lane and blast through the intersection and jump into the right lane to avoid other rolling road blocks doing their thing in the fast lane, err, the left lane, err, the other lane. Well, apparently it was too close for mister Taliban, or whatever you want to call the middle east supporting, hydro-carbon guzzling and probably too many kids Mormon driver from Utah. He did have a Utah license plate, and there are a lot of Mormons in Utah. Not sure about the Taliban thing though.

Disclaimer: It matters not to me what other believe, where they live, or even what they do, until it starts spilling over into my life and directly affecting me. In this case, I’m simply using these assumptions as unfounded insults because I am pissed off.

Anyway, this fool decides to sit right on my ass and flash it’s lights at me in the right lane, the slow lane, the lane where one is supposed to be to allow other people to pass you. Oh, and have I mentioned he was going very, very slow just a few second prior. What is this guy’s gig? And yes, the left lane was plenty open. I left plenty of space between him and I when I pulled back into the slow lane just a couple of seconds ago, at a slightly faster pace as he was driving. Ugh.

Right, so the only thing I can think to do is give it some stick. Up we go to 80mph. The gajillion ton brick of inefficient, under-engineered waste of resource catches up eventually, and repeats the flashy-light routine. OK, so up we go to the top speed of the bike, which is 100mph, to hit a light turning to yellow, and as the bike and I cross the line, to a crimson orange, the expedition slams on the brakes. Excellent! Luckily crazy Mormon decided to stop for the light.

I slow back down to the speed-limit, proper, and cruise my happy ass home. So, I guess I cut this fool off too? I guess my bike is the wrong color. Or maybe it was an off-duty cop doing their duty to slow down these speed crazed adrenaline junkies hell bent on ruining everybody else’s day on their commute home in significantly less than optimal hooligan weather.

OK, OK, OK. So maybe I should have slowed down a bit and sat behind him forever, freezing off various parts of my anatomy, letting my bright-as-the-sun headlight burn holes in his retinas. (Note: My headlight adjustments have always been law-abiding, even if their brightness hasn’t – It’s for safety, OK?!)

All sarcasm, thin-skinned, butt-hurt bull shit emotion aside. What has gotten into everybody, including me? Am I the problem? It seems everybody is driving significantly slower than normal, and just being generally ridiculous! Thanksgiving blew past. Is it the holiday season? Is it family stress? Is it increased law-enforcement needing to make their end-of-year quota because the Politicians can’t stop feeding other countries instead of our own? Or, is it the ticking-time-bomb-few who haven’t fallen prey to the Holiday frenzy and are content, calm and happy to cruise ten mile per hour below the speed of traffic, just to blow up at the first sight of spunk and zest?

Maybe my frame of reference is just so far off these two couldn’t even fathom it. Efficiency and safety. Everybody keeps up, nobody gets left behind, or should I say, held back. A motorcycle with a safety bubble of space around it is a safe motorcycle. Plus, if you can’t afford to provide proper propulsion up to the speed limit, exactly what good is going to come from running a multi-ton behemoth at freeway illegal speeds? If you really don’t like me, flip me the bird and move on.

Yea, I’m biased. Yea, I’m opinionated. Yea, I’m an asshole. Hate me for it. But regardless of if you do or not, if you can’t play nice with others, get out of my way and leave me alone!


About Dandooligan

Dandooligan CO, United States Every ride spurs the yearning for another and as such, has pushed me to adopt the riding lifestyle and all of it's challenges. This blog concerns those challenges from bikes to gear, media about bikes, and maybe even some psychology/sociology on the subject as well. Dandooligan, a mash-up of Dandy and Hooligan, both very important parts of me and my outlook on life. I'm also known as Spooph


  1. Pingback: Holiday Fever spawns Glutinous Road Rage « thedandooligan

  2. Bornwildnfree

    Naa, it’s just that people don’t like to lose and they don’t like to have their mistakes thrown in their face. They also either hate sportbikes or don’t see us and it pisses them off when we can get around them. I still maintain you need a bigger bike. I haven’t had anyone mess with me on the ZX prolly because I can out accelerate just about anything cheaper than a Ferrari. People are just assholes in general, but get all bent when you mirror their behavior back at them.

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