After having a wonderful evening dinner with my family and their friends, I was heading home in the late evening, from the relatively safe city of Walnut Creek, California.
At a left-turn stoplight, I pulled up next to this rather beat-up looking 2000 Toyota Camry. I ignored it as I was wanted to go home. But the guy in the Camry, insisted I pay attention to him. He played with his gas & brake to make his car lurch foward, kind of in a hoppping motion. I caught this out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored it.
Then he honked me. Just a couple of light taps of his horn and I looked over. It was a bunch of teenagers, 1 male driver, 1 male in the back seat, and I think his girlfriend in the passenger seat. He had his windows rolled down and motioned to do the same. So I did and I asked him
"Can I help you?"
And he replied "You's one ugly mutha-fucka!" and he guns it, running the red and goes to the on ramp.
Now the thing is, I usually don't let a lot of smart-asses and wiseguys get to me. I've dealt with enough of those kind of people's shit to realize that they generally end up losers in life (or dead cuz they don't know when to shut up). But his blatent disregard and lack of respect was just over the top.
Testosterone got the better of me. He did stop at the next light right before the merge to the freeway, but it turned green as I was already accelerating into it going about 30mph. I flew by him, angry that some punk like him just would go out and randomly insult someone. I had enough anger going thru my system that I wanted something bad to happen to him. I didn't care if he crashed. Hell, if my car was equipped with some spy-tech tire shredders, I would have left him with 2 flats. Worse things might have happened if I had any projectile launching devices.
As I was flying down the freeway at speeds that I know I shouldn't be going, he eventually catches up and passes me. He cuts in front of me in my lane to not allow me to pass. Damn, he has a V6 under that hood after I noticed that he had XLE V6 badge on his scuffed up trunk, no way I could out distance him and I knew I was going to hit the top-end limit of my Mazda 3. (And dumb me forgot to take down his license plate, cuz it would have been fun to inform his mommy and daddy about what he's doing to the family car).
If I had laser beams emitting from my eyes, I would have had a big hole in my windshield and his car would have been nothing but a rolling heap of molten slag.
Instead, I had my Xenon Hi-beams flashing from behind him. Man, are those things bright, his mirror was angled perfectly to flash some of it back at my face. Maybe I'm glad I don't have laser beams cuz I would have just shot myself back.
Well, the hi-beams obviously annoyed him and he seemed too stupid to flip his mirror to deflect the bright light. He took the split on the freeway to the right and I continued going to the left, turning off my brights, and slowing back down to more sane speeds. The game was over.
I did something stupid that I thought I would never do. It doesn't make me feel good that I did it either and that I obviously lost all self control for a minute. The only thing I was glad for was it was late at night and traffic was non-existent.
As I pulled up to my house, I parked and checked my car. Despite what had just transpired for me a few minutes ago, my car seemed in good condition and it was interesting to finally push it a little to see what it could do. Despite losing to a punk, I consoled myself that it could been much worse and I hope that something much worse does happen to the jackass.
So now I'm here, ranting my story about punks and street racing. If anything I learned, he got me good. Hook, Line, and sinker. Now would be a good time for me to get a turbo-kit and some new tires