Have you ever been cut-off in traffic, and been too preoccupied with dealing with the situation, (brake hard, steer, but not too much, check your rear view, retake a position back in your lane, breathe... stare daggers - no, screw that - scimitars, into the back of the car that has just taken its place in your lane...) to blare your horn in that mix of notification and indignation?
Happened to me yesterday afternoon, southbound just north of the Mount Gravatt bus station and just before the freeway’s T2 lane. Right-hand fast-lane.
Douchebag in a blue late 80’s Ford Laser hatchback, blinkey blink into the lane next to me, watching him merge over. Note that I am sitting in a position where I can’t see his face in the rear-view, but where I could mind you, only a moment ago whilst he merged over. Right now however, I know I’m in his blind spot. Note his reach for the blinker again. Blinker goes on, and yep, sure enough here he comes.
I already had my thumb hovering on the horn, I’ve found that’s the way I ride in traffic because there are so many chances for people to decide they need to kill me. In this situation I saw it coming for ages. I mean we all innately know that for someone who has merged from a position 2 lanes away into the lane next to ours, they have a pretty big chance of merging again. When the circumstances arise, like having entered some-one's blind spot with the likelihood they haven’t noticed, I’m usually thumb-over-horn, and keeping an eye on driver’s right (usually) indicator hand to make sure they aren’t coming for a visit with the likelihood of not having seen me enter or exit their blind spot.
Anyway, to return to the incident at hand; I had seen him start to merge the second time, on top of me. Blaring horn and relying on engine braking and a little rear brake, I slow, swerve, and take my place behind him. I leave the horn on for a moment or two because I know that’s all I have. No acknowledgement. No look of surprise then regret. No apologetic wave through the rear window.
The T2 lane starts, and sure enough he wants to take his place in it. Him. One occupant. huh. Now I have the pleasure of sitting behind him for T2’s unbroken (no cars allowed to enter or exit the lane) 4 or 5 kilometre stretch. I’m imagining his body being gnawed by dingos. All four of his tyres bursting simultaneously, and his car managing some formula1 end-over-end spill onto the median strip whilst I sail on past with gay abandon.
Nope all I have is my racing heartbeat, my surge of blood to the head, and the slow draining of a neat little injection of adrenaline.
It is right here in the controlled multi-kilometre trailing of the perpetrator, that I think again of all of those times I was standing in front of a band, driving desert highways with someone using high beams behind me, being cut off in traffic and didn’t get to use my horn, overtook someone who hadn’t taken the time to restrain their progeny.
In all of these situations I have more than once thought that having my own little LED Ticker (think stock exchange trading floors) mounted across the car’s parcel shelf or dash board, or embroidered into my jacket.
Wouldn’t it just be the most savage attack ever to be able to express your distaste of someone’s driving skill by proclaiming “your driving is in the toilet” or “it’s no wonder you drive like a 100 year old with a face like that” in all of it’s LED illuminated glory.
Wouldn’t it be the most emotional and touching way to proclaim your adoration for the lead guitarist and their mad skillz by wearing your LED jacket and programming it to say “you twiddle those strings so well i can imagine those fingers messing with my junk!” (hey, who is saying the guitarist is male or that I’m talking about male junk you homo-phobe)
Anyway, someone with more motivation for turning ideas into inventions, please report back in a week with a prototype. okthnxbye.
