There I was, minding my business, poking along in the slow lane about to exit onto Interstate 215. Since I got my new car, I do tend to drive a bit like a grandpa — slightly under the speed limit, speeding up and slowing down according to terrain as I try to milk maximum miles per gallon out of my tank. It kind of comes with the territory driving a Honda Insight. The on-dash miles-per-gallon displays help one focus on driving patterns that bring out the best from one’s vehicle.
Of course, that means I’ve gotten more used to being passed on the freeway than I used to. A few months ago, I was one of the testosterone-charged, “must do at least 5 over the speed limit” drivers. Since driving the Insight, my road-rage level is noticeably smaller. Unfortunately, not everybody’s is.
I turned on my blinker to merge one lane to the right, looked in my rearview mirrors, and saw that it was clear. I began my merge, when suddenly movement in two of my mirrors caught my attention.
A white Toyota Pickup was doing about ninety-five miles per hour one lane over to my left, and without a signal on, was merging into my lane about fifty feet behind me. His trajectory appeared to be similar to mine: attempting to merge over and get on I-215.
I quickly corrected my steering to remain in my own lane to avoid a collision with the other driver. Despite that correction, he missed my rear bumper by mere inches as he blasted through an impossibly small gap at a ridiculous speed trying to reach the onramp.
After I saw him slam on his brakes in the right-hand lane, safely in front of me, I merged over to that lane myself. I was unhappy that someone was driving so unsafely in the semidarkness of my morning commute. I expressed this displeasure to him with a 1-second treatment of my high beams. To come so close to hitting someone else due to your poor driving is just incredibly rude and dangerous.
Within a second, I noted his response. Inside the cab of his truck, silhouetted by my now-dim headlights, I saw the familiar one-finger salute, extended from his right hand.
Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with that, though. I think he thought I couldn’t see the ovation on the inside of his cab. So he rolled down his driver’s-side window and extended his hand out of it, pumping the glove-fisted finger up and down a few times so that I got the message.
That marks the first time I’ve received the finger in seven years of driving in Utah. I don’t think that’s saying anything about the drivers here — they are as bad as anywhere else. But it was rather poignant to me that I remembered the last time I’d received the finger, while driving on I-295 in Maryland. Yep, over ten years ago.
When was the last time you got the finger? And why?
You guys are still getting th
You guys are still getting the finger in Utah? How quaint. Man, out here it’s gone from finger to trigger. The finger is an old-fashioned, downscale sign of anger nowadays. People are even shooting each other over what has become called boat-rage; angry boaters sending wake and what not.
Sammy G
Thats f$%#^’d up.
Boat rage? Even in suburban DC Metro you don’t really get shot unless youre being robbed, carjacked, kidnapped, in a rival gang, bystander at a burglary, or dating a senator.
We’re far more civilized here.