I don’t drive like I’m 90.
Most people would probably say I drive more like a man than a woman, which is due in part to the fact my Dad had me driving around the farm in our old pickup from the time I was 12.
I tell you this because it seems the combination of the three statements above cause emotional trauma and stress for a few men behind wheels and creates a need in them to drive like a jerk to prove their manhood.
And it really annoys me.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been driving home from work, pass a car that is dawdling along only to have the male driver come unglued to be passed not only by a woman, but a woman in a PT Cruiser. He will then do everything possible to pass me, pull right in front of me and go back to dawdling along. That is the point when I usually find a side road, turn off, and take the scenic drive home.
I don’t get it. Really, I don’t. And I know it isn’t a “guy thing” because Captain Cavedweller would never in a million years do that to anyone. Ever.
Last night, in fact, as I was driving home I was stuck in a line of cars behind a mini-SUV who was holding up traffic. Just to simplify matters, I’m going to refer to the driver of that vehicle as The Jerk.
When the opportunity came to get around The Jerk, the pickup in front of me changed lanes and started to pass him. The pickup was nearly even to The Jerk’s bumper, when The Jerk switched lanes right in front of him. Of course, the pickup and I both slammed on our brakes. After a few attempts to get past The Jerk, the pickup gave up.
While The Jerk was busy annoying the pickup driver, I changed lanes and ended up even with him at a stoplight. Once the light turned green, I hoped to leave The Jerk behind. Which was fairly simple since he was driving so slow. The problem arose when I needed to change lanes and make my turn off the highway. I signaled and looked back only to find The Jerk had hit the gas and was rapidly approaching.
Here is the part you are going to love.
He pulled up even with my car and wouldn’t leave. I sped up, he sped up. I slowed down to 40, he slowed down to 40.
Really? Come on, dude.
Since no one was behind me at this point, I slammed on my brakes and pulled behind him. By the time he realized what I’d done and slammed on his brakes, I had pulled into the turning lane, made the turn and escaped.
Why must some male driver’s be such jerks?
She Who Was Not Impressed At All