Yes, that’s right. Driving with a golf club. Now, you can be witty and say, “But Kristin, how would I drive the ball without a Driver?” *snorts* Ok, so that’s cute. But I’m talking about a man, probably in his 50s or so, driving an old, green Ford minivan with a driver in the seat next to him, waving it at cars that don’t go 85 on the highway. True story.
Mom and I were driving back to Corvallis on April Fool’s Day [the first for all you stuffy people], and we were putting merrily up Hwy 680, after the 580 interchange and nearing the Sacramento exit for Hwy 24 or whatever it is. We were in the fast lane, going 75-78, and here’s this douche behind us in an old minivan, tailgating my car. The first thing I thought was, “Oh please hit my car so I can finally get my bumper replaced.” [Hey, I backed into a mountain two years ago, and totally didn’t see it coming. That’s another story for another time.] The second was that sign on 4th street as you pull into downtown Corvallis from Circle, which says “We’ll make you later, tailgater”or something. It’s an ODOT safe driving billboard, and they’re all so… Profound. I actually enjoy seeing what they come up with, even if they’re slightly morbid.
*Example: One has a boy with his arm slung around a dotted line silhouette of a girl, and the caption reads: “He sped, she’s dead.” Very alarming, but good.
Ok, so Mr. Man is tailgating. I merrily ignored him for awhile, and then couldn’t any longer.
“Mom, he’s up our butts, maybe it’s time to get over.”
“I will, Honey, just wait a second. I need this jerk to let me over first.” She was referring to another jerk which was in our blind spot. Lots of crappy drivers reside in California, apparently.
So, just as she was about to pull over, Mr. Man decides to whip around us at lightening-fast speeds, giving us a dirty look as he drove by. So, I did what any red-blooded Cali girl would do. I flipped him off.
That was the worst possible, but somewhat silly, mistake to make. I’m a 20-something college student living in Oregon. You can’t possibly take anything I do seriously. [At least, no adult I know takes college students seriously, regardless of their major.] He slams on his brakes like a child ran infront of the car, and begins to match our speed next to us, signaling me to roll my window down. Hell no I’m not rolling my window down for the douche that was tailgating us.
“What’d you do, Kristin?”
“Uhm, I flipped him off.”
“Don’t ever, EVER do that to anyone! You don’t know what kind of crazy response you’ll get!”
Well, ner, I got my crazy response.
He rolled his window down and started screaming at us to pull over, probably so he could beat two women presumably from Oregon [I have out of state plates on my car because I wanted residency]. I gave him my snotty “I’m so much better than you, and you’re no better than dog shit” look that comes with growing up in a well-off community. Well, that made him angry. He pulled a golf club from his passenger seat and began to swing it outside his window, while we were going 80 down the highway. WTF. It wasn’t a driver, actually, but with my limited knowledge, I’d guess a chipper at the way the thingie was angled. Who drives with a golf club in the front seat!? Someone like that shouldn’t be driving, let alone playing golf. I’d hate to see what he does to the poor green.
I actually got scared for a second. I thought, if he got close enough, he’d actually swing it at my car, and bringing up that I’m a college student with no job, surprise surprise, I wouldn’t be able to afford to fix that. He had some serious anger issues. Thankfully, he looked to be overweight, and probably had a heart problem, and high cholesterol, so with stress levels like he has, he won’t be around much longer. I just hope he dies a fiery death. No one should get that upset over a gesture.
Mom wouldn’t let me call the CHP on him, even though I really wanted to call 911 and rat him out. Instead, I called 1-800-EXHAUST, which is a Bay Area emissions hotline that you can call and report a smoking car. The offender will get a ticket in the mail, and a demand to get their car re-smogged. Daddy does it every now and then when people drive crappy, so that was somewhat of a consolation. I still wanted his ass thrown in jail. But, if I had called CHP, I would’ve had to admit that I flipped him off, which I don’t think we’re supposed to do. *sigh* Oh well.
The moral of the story is: Don’t drive on 680. There are WAY too many nutjobs on that highway to safely get anywhere. I never really appreciated the smaller highways of the Willamette Valley until that day. I think we take the lack of congestion for granted, and after that “experience”, if you will, and others that day, I don’t think I’ll ever want to live in the Bay Area ever again. …Well, if I do, I want a driver so I don’t have to deal with that shit.