Tango of the Road Rage Drivers: Final Entry

I remember my first dance with a road rage driver. I was leaving the Smithtown Messenger Newspaper along Main Street in Smithtown. Traffic was light. No threatening encounters met me on Jericho Turnpike. The stress of the day was melting away, and I turned on Veterans Highway. And that is where I met a speeding SUV that barely stopped behind me at a traffic light.

Like a bat out of hell, the car flew around me, barely cutting me off. The driver made their way toward the Northern Parkway, the route I took home. They realized that I was merging behind them because the road split ahead, and they slammed on their brakes. I had no idea where the other lane would take me, but this crazy lunatic refused to let me in. I slammed on the gas and jumped in front, and as I glanced at the rearview mirror, I could hear the motor grinding at my bumper. But where was a cop when you needed one?

My friends nicknamed this car the Flintstone mobile. It was an old, red BMW that I bought from my cousin. She warned me about its quirks, but she forgot to mention the empty oil bottle left in the engine. And she also forgot to tell me that things had a habit of falling off the car while driving, and I was waiting for the bottom to drop out beneath me. And if I braked, this tin can that held me in place would have crushed every fiber of my being, so for the sake of living to tell this tale, I floored it onto the parkway. And again, the driver swerved into the right land and then into the left, and she slammed on the brakes. But I was already anticipating her next move, stopping just in the nick of time.

When this stranger who never met me until today realized that she could not kill me, she flew ahead out into an open road. She swerved between the lanes, but after a few exits, she found home in the right lane. And she even did the speed limit like our tango never happened, and what about me? I was shaken to the core, but I wanted to go home. My mind bounced around like a hamster in a wheel, and I forgot about the cell phone tucked away in my purse. And I prayed that an encounter like this would never find me again.

That was 2004. Over the years, I had brief encounters with road ragers. The memorable ones, their stories found home here on Associated Content. I was always grateful to pull into my driveway in one piece, body and car, and as the front door slammed behind me, I put these endless waltzes out of mind once written. And I awaited the next day, hoping to have no more stories to tell.

Until today. I loved the open road. I would sit back and cruise in the right lane, but as I have mentioned previously in another chapter, the Palisades Parkway is a pain in my ass. Once past the bookstore, the road again splits, and I had no idea where the left lane would lead. But this is not where I would meet him.

Approaching the traffic circle, I took in the scenery. I awaited a turn of cars passing past my lane. I slowly ventured out and passed another lane, where cars yielded before me, and I turned on Route 6. But this is not where I would meet him.

The second merger point was coming up. Traffic was already building, and I lightly tapped on the brakes, glaring at the man edging too close to my bumper. I softly pressed on the gas, and I could see the split lanes ahead. My stomach turned, but it was a clear path into the right lane. And I took it, but this was not when we would meet.

A utilities truck braked before me as we edged forward, and I tapped on the brakes. The truck slowly moved in-between the right lane and merger lane, blocking drivers from cutting him off. I again tapped on the brakes, eyeing the yellow yield signs to my left. All cars were merging behind me except for one, and his car was parallel with mine. And his foot slammed on the gas, refusing to touch the brakes, and we passed the merger point. But he could not cut off the truck, and his car swerved too close to mine. But why should I swerve into the opposite traffic lane, causing a head-on collision because this road rager did not want to yield? Who made him lord of the road?

No. If he was hell bent on causing an accident, then it would be the two of us that would dance. I would not risk any innocent life because of his ignorance, but there was nowhere for me to go. So, I pressed forward, and he was running out of road. His fist struck the horn several times, but my hands remained in place over the rubber wheel, refusing to let go. And I prayed for a cop to pass by in the opposite lane, see this melee, and pull this asshole over, and my prayer was heard. Well, not about the cop. This guy finally slammed on his brakes, swerved behind me, and nearly struck my bumper, but thank God, my exit was coming up. But a question nagged at the back of my mind. Was this lunatic as crazy as the first road rager that I encountered? Would he follow me home? But to my relief, he flew up to Route 17M, tailgating the car before him, and disappearing from sight.

I used to joke with my Long Island friends. I would say that us country bumpkins would never have the audacity to commit road rage. However, the city has come home, and living on Long Island, I've learned to decipher between them and the country folk. I was warned that New Jersey drivers were the worst, but luckily, they've never crossed my path not even on the Palisades. I must catch them on a good day, but the city drivers? They make us Long Islanders look like child's play, and my money is on this road rager being straight out of the city.

But I arrived home. Safe and sound, but I really did not want this story to tell. I just wanted to leave work, enjoy the ride home, and kick off my shoes and relax. Is that too much to ask for? Unfortunately, the only route for me to take with the exception of the thruway is this way to and from where my job resides, and it's been quiet on the commuter front. I've been enjoying that until today, and despite this article concluding this long series that has stretched over the years, I fear of encountering another road rager because they're out there. No matter where you go, country or city, they'll be there, waiting, and you can't let them force you off the road. You can't afford to lose control because someone will die, and the last thing you would want is to make the news. No, they can't be allowed to dominate, and if you are able to, grab your cell and dial 911. But hope that it is in an area where you do receive reception, and remain focused. Keep your eyes on your enemy and the road, and try to get home safe and sound. And as for you, Mr. Road Rager, I say thank you. Thank you for proving my point on how dangerous you road ragers really are.