Who is currently driving a white bakkie- with a canopy- bearing the registration number RRT617GP. I hope your boss Google’s his vehicles…
You are an asshole supreme.
Yes, I was half a second late pulling away from the traffic light where you first came up behind me- but to my mind that does not validate hooting at me to move- so already I’m on edge.
But these things happen. I am prepared to let it go. After all… half a second is a LOT of time traffic light to traffic light and I would hate to inconvenience anyone you know.
But then- weaving around behind me as we drive up the hill only pissed me off- you want to go the same way I am going and so cannot overtake me just yet with cars to the right and in front of us, so you resort to typical South African road hog intimidation tactics instead.
At the next traffic light we both turn left- and I continue across the road and keep right as I am going to be turning right at the next traffic light.
Then your pulling up to my left and hooting at me repeatedly and trying to get my attention- and yes, I was still trying to ignore you at this point- before pulling in behind me and flashing your lights is WAY over the top.
You complete fucker.
You can consider yourself lucky, you doos, that I didn’t simply ignore the next traffic light and leave you to sit behind me until a moment before it went red again.
As it is- you hooted at me again as the light turned green- and I was already moving! I felt, at this point, that I no longer could ignore your bullshit, and that flipping you the bird out of my window was fully justified.
Following me across the intersection it seemed you were relaxing a little- and by this stage I was more than a little nervous, heart pounding and all that, and the next thing I know you’ve pulled in next to me on the left again- as I look across you’re waving your arms at me as if to say “What?” and you’re deliberately keeping pace with my car and trying to get me to look at you.
You fucking jerk.
Now I’m pissed off and scared and I swear if I’d had a gun I woulda pulled it then just to get you to fuck off and leave me alone.
At the next light I turn right and you go straight and I am rid of you at last.
I hope someone slashes your tires and you rot in hell, you fucking wanker.
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.