I guess more people are falling into that ill advised behavior defined as "road rage".
I thought I'd share this with you guys, because aside from being rather amusing, it does reflect the increasing lack of civility we experience almost daily. And you know, I even see this playing Aces High. Anyway, to the story.
Driving home from the office tonight, I pull up to a stop sign as I entered my neighborhood. I yield to a white Chevy Impala, who arrived first. Behind me is a black Pontiac Grand Prix, who had been tailgating me for about a mile. As I select first gear, the Grand Prix gives me a little bump. Not hard, more like a push, but perhaps enough to leave a rub mark on the rear valance. I drive thru the intersection and pull over to the side, signaling to the Pontiac driver to do likewise. Instead, he pulls around me (nearly running head-on into a Toyota) and floors it.
"Ah hell", I think and take off in pursuit to at least get a plate number. This guy (mid 20s) blows through several stop signs, but I follow until he is forced to stop by traffic. I pulled up on his left, ran down the passenger window and said, "It's a bad idea to run away from a road accident, pal."
"Whadda ya talkin' about" is his reply.
"You ran into the back of my car back there, just in case you're completely clueless."
"Bullsheet, I never hit you!"
"No, then why did you run?"
"I wasn't running, a--hole!"
"Ah", I said, "doing 75 in a 30 zone is normal driving for you, huh?"
"F--- off!"
"Uh huh, well then, pull over to the shoulder. I want to see your license and insurance card."
"Sure, if that'll make you happy, fine.
So, I pull ahead and over to the curb. Once I stop, he takes off again. I dial 911 on my cell phone and begin to explain the situation to the operator.
As before, I follow until he makes a wrong turn into a cul-de-sac. As he tries to turn around, I pull my car across his nose, pinning his Pontiac between it and the curb.
"Move your F---in' car s--thead", he yells.
"I don't think so" I said as I climbed out to check for damage. "I want to see some ID and your insurance card and don't make me ask again."
'Yeah, or what?" He jumps out of the Grand Prix.
"Or (showing him my cell phone with the 911 operator already listening) you can explain it to the Judge at your arraignment in the morning."
Meanwhile, I can't hear the 911 operator who was apparently telling me to get back in the car because they guy could be armed.
I put the phone to my mouth and give the operator the street address.
A look of horror runs across the face of the other driver.
He blurts out, "I'm a city cop!" (actually, NY Transit Police).
"Oh really, well you better produce a badge and ID or your life is gonna be a hellava lot more complicated than it was 10 seconds ago."
Out comes a black leather badge wallet, with badge and ID.
That's when I lost it with him. I have four cops in my immediate family. A brother, a nephew, my brother-in-law, and a cousin. All of them are members of the county Police and Sheriff's departments.
"Of all people, a gaddamned cop should stop when he hits another car! Jesus, are you stupid?!
"I didn't hit your f---in' car! Go ahead, get a car (police) here!
Like hell you didn't, don't lie to me!
By now several homeowners have come out to see what the commotion is about.
Once again, I talk to the 911 operator. "Please send over a sector car, I believe Officer Peter Levino is on duty tonight." Pete graduated the academy with my brother and they are close friends. Pete has had the 4 to midnight shift for several years. I'm hoping this isn't one of his days off. The operator calls the sector car, tells Pete who is involved and he asks the operator to tell me he's coming.
"Okay officer loudmouth, he'll be here as fast as he can. Where's your insurance card?"
Still swearing a blue streak, he pulls the card from the glovebox. He hands it to me as I look for damage to the bumper. Just a very small rub mark is visible.
LOLOL the card expired in August!
"This is worthless. Do you have a current card?"
"S--t... it's at home....."
"You are one walking clusterf--k of a Police Officer, aren't you?"
He breaks into another episode of cursing and name calling.
I realize that I'm not angry anymore, in fact, I'm beginning to enjoy this.
My response to his ranting was two words.
"Bite me".
"Only for money a--hole!"
"Well, you look like you work cheap." I take out a couple of one- dollar bills I have in my pants pocket. "This includes the tip."
He loses it now. Attempting to slap the money from my hand, he lunges at me. I side step him easily enough. He shoves his badge towards my face yelling "you see this, you see this you f---in' Bast-rd!!!". Just as he blurts this out, in front of several people no less, sector car 609 turns into the cul-de-sac and stops, lights a-turnin'.
Pete literally leaps from the Crown Victoria and shoves the city cop back against his Pontiac. "Are you out of your mind?!", he screams at the guy. Pete takes the badge and ID telling the guy to "get in your damn car and don't even move a muscle". The guy begins to talk and Pete cuts him off. "You get in your car or you'll be getting in the back of mine" Wisely, he complies, completely baffled as to why he isn't getting the special treament cops always give other cops.
Pete takes me aside and asks what happened. I told him. He looked quite unhappy at the quandry this situation placed him in.
"How do I settle this without further trouble? If you push a complaint, he'll probably get suspended. That could completely screw up his career."
"I didn't know there were career morons on the job. He should have thought about that before he took off, and before he decided to be a total jerk".
"Yeah, well he's thinkin' about it now."
I look at the young guy, he's visibly upset.
"I'm not going to sign a complaint, there's no damage. But, he's not getting off that easy. His behavior was unacceptable, not only for a cop for crissake, but for anyone. You know, he came mighty close to throwing a punch. If he had, you know what would have happened."
"I know, I know. But, it didn't come to that did it?"
"Alright, let me talk to him."
So, we walk over and Pete tells the guy to step out of the car.
"It's your play" says Pete and he steps back, but within arms reach.
I give the guy a long look and say, "since there's nothing more than a smudge on the bumper, there's no harm done. I can compound that out easy enough."
He starts to reply, but I talk right over him. "you will have your chance to speak when I'm done, but for now you WILL keep your mouth shut." He turns beet red again, but he holds his tongue.
"I want you to know that I'm very disappointed in what you did to avoid your responsibility. I also want to remind you that as a cop, you are never off duty and cursing and name calling are not acceptable, especially when you were in the wrong from the start. At the very least you should apologize to me and thank this guy for going to bat for you". He's glaring at me with utter contempt.
"Now it's your turn."
He vents a bit, but his langauge is now largely devoid of vulgarities. Having disposed of the semi-incoherent invectives, he decides to try blaming me. "You followed me for miles, suppose I thought you were a risk to me? You could have been arrested or maybe hurt. Did you think of that when you blocked me in?"
This guy figures he's intimidating in appearance... Not a chance. "I think it was pretty obvious that I wasn't much impressed".
He blurts, "how would you know if I had a gun or tire iron or something else?"
"I really wouldn't care if you had a bazooka."
"You're an idiot, you're an old man! You could get the crap beat out of ya doin that stupid s--t."
"Old man?!!" Still trying to push buttons, I see. "Listen junior, any time you feel like taking a beating from an old man, just swing by the PAL gym and we'll put on the gloves and headgear."
Pete interjects with an odd question: "You still training your nephew?"
"Er, not lately, he says he's too busy since he transferred to Yaphank (headquarters)."
A glimmer of recognition dawns on the Transit cop's face. "Your nephew's a police officer?"
"That's right, and my brother is a Deputy Sheriff. Pete here graduated the academy with him."
"My brother-in-law Phil is in the 5th precinct. There's another family member on the job here too. Oh, and my next-door neighbor is NYPD. I have cops coming out of my prettythang, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not impressed with your transit cop tin.
Pete chuckles.
He still claimed that he didn't bump my car, but that black rub mark wasn't there 15 minutes before and something surely pushed my car partially into the intersection and it wasn't THAT windy. He sure was determined not to admit his error, because that would establish that he willfully and knowingly left the scene.
Pete left on another call and we stood there and talked for a few more minutes. It was civil, but there was still plenty of tension. Clearly, this guy didn't care for me at all. Equally clear was the fact that I didn't give one hoot.
He admitted to having a bad day.
I didn't have a bad day. I don't need an excuse to be obnoxious.
My brother called me a little while ago, having been called by Pete. He wanted to know if I wanted him to have a conversation with the guy's watch commander. I said no, let it go. My opinion was that if he hasn't figured it out by now, it's just a matter of time before someone else beefs him. He had his reality check.
But, knowing my brother, he will track this guy down anyway.
Perhaps he really doesn't think he bumped my car. But if that's the case, how far out in space was he?
My regards,
Widewing