A True One!
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Needs must when a certain old gentleman drives.
A crazed asshole tailgated me for half of our hour-long drive to the riding stable one day. It kept swerving around in its lane right behind me, and I never understood what its initial problem was. It wasn’t like I’m a slowpoke or nuthin’ - quite the opposite! I hadn’t cut him off…I just didn’t get it, which made it even more scary. Mom wasn’t enjoying it much, either.
The bit where it happened is a rural, gravel-shoulder’d on either side, two-lane, curvy, hilly affair with whom I am very familiar. There are plenty of places to legally and sanely pass, but he didn’t try, and if he had I’d’ve floored it. We didn’t want to know what he’d do had he got next to us or passed us!
Dunno how I did it, but I stayed calm while driving at a demonic pace to avoid the creep (it was a man, of course), like some badass stunt driver. There are many farms along this beautiful road, and one of them has a seasonal store next to their broad gravel driveway. Another vehicle hove in sight by the farm store, waiting for a lot of oncoming traffic before making a left. Something just clicked in my head, and trusting my skill, I did exactly what was needed. I floored it, plunged onto the gravel to my right, handily passed the sitting car - travelling arrow-straight across the driveway apron! - then hopped back onto the pavement, leaving fuckface fuming and mom amazed. He hadn’t left himself enough room, so he couldn’t escape - he was stuck behind the guy making the turn. I let up on the gas a little once I’d put a mile between us, but sure enough, our friend found us.
I went faster and faster, and made the turn into the stables’ gravel driveway so sharp and so late he couldn’t follow. I quickly parked where the car would be invisible, beside a much larger vehicle. Mom was once again amazed.
He drove back and forth a few times, looking for us. Fortunately, the vehicle next to us was big enough that the asshole couldn’t see our car from either direction.
We were almost half an hour early, which was good. It meant there were 20 mins for me to breathe, tell the tale, and quit shaking before our lesson.
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Sorry to hear that. What a scary creep!
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I had a similar thing in college. Car full of girls and a guy who later turned out was girl too. Had really long beautiful hair at the time. Multi-lane major toll road. We were headed to a midnight showing at an artsy theater, so it was pretty empty.
Guy in a jeep starts pacing us. Then moves in front and taps his brakes. Drops back to pace us. Paying more attention to the interior of the car than the road. It was so creepy. I was wondering if he was going to pull a gun or follow us the whole way. I tried to exit early and he blocked me.
I sped up, he sped up. I slowed down, he slowed down. Our exit was coming up. I sped up. Then sped up some more. I checked my rearview. Asked my passengers to turn around and make sure we had nothing behind us. They did, we didn’t. No lights at all.
I sped up even more. He sped up next to us. Then I checked my mirrors one more time, made sure everyone was facing forward, and said “brace yourselves! I’m braking hard.” Darted behind the creep into the exit lane just before the double white started. He was going so fast, he shot right past and in front of us. I saw him swerve to exit too and then swerve back when confronted with the certainty he’d hit the barriers and barrels.
We kept our eyes peeled for that jeep the whole way to the theater.
Why are men so awful?
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Mom always said, “I blame their mothers.” Now I’m old, I think their dads (when present) also have an ahem awful lot to answer for.
When we saw Tom Waits perform his then-recent song “Raised Right Men” on tv, she started yelling the sort of stuff one hears in very happy Black congregations, not from an old white lady XD XD XD
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One night in A2, I was driving home from picking up groceries and a big ole truck pulled up really quickly on my tail, extremely close. I gave my brakes a couple of quick taps to signal they were too close (but not enough to slow down significantly, the speed limit being 35), but the truck persisted on staying extremely close. When I approached the intersection of S Maple and Pauline traveling south, he got into the lane next to me, rolled down his window, and pantomimed firing a gun at me.
How do people who get their kicks from intimidation continue to survive? If asshole-in-the-truck encountered someone with a similar mindset, who in the U.S. would almost surely be carrying a handgun, it seems like the inevitable conclusion would be a shoot-out.
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I haven’t a clue. They’re more than sick.
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Sorry to hear that, glad you emerged okay!
It’s shit like that that makes me refrain from expressing my beliefs with bumper stickers (however cowardly that may be).
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It’s terrifying, appalling, and infuriating that too many, esp women, have similar tales.
A GF once screamed at an asshole who almost ran us and her husband (who was driving) off the road in So Cal so he could pass us, “I’m not afraid to go back to prison, motherfucker!” not long after her husband had screamed at him, “What? What?! You late for your goddam hitler youth meeting?!”
They were fearless, that pair, and I do hope they’re well, happy, and prosperous.
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I’ve been sick AF for several days. Spent 2 1/2 of them in bed, trying to sleep. A friend with allergies often said, “It’s hard to have fun when you’re not breathing,” and truer woids was rarely spoke. Still sometimes experiencing fever, trouble getting comfortable in bed, stupidity, and inability to type (you have no fucking idea, my friend, how carefully I’m typing this), and a host of other delights.
Oh, and my machine got sick, too. It started working again only when the power supply wasn’t plugged into it…but weirdly, now it seems fine w/the PS. 
Another symptom is the dreams. I whined at @ProfOddfellow abt them, and I doubt he’d mind were I to reproduce an edited version of my whinge here for your possible amusement and possible bemusement.
Had dementedly boring dreams, truly stupid dreams for a couple days. Thoroughly unsatisfying. The same frustration on awaking as while experiencing them. Repetitious - the same thoughts, or ideas, and emotions; occasionally repeating stupid inner arguments w/myself, over and over, and all dull as ditchwater. It was akin to being forced to look thru one of those dreadful local commercial publications - mailbox fillers. Cheap, copious ink-shedding newsprint pages, w/occasional articles re: supposed local bizness worthies with their baffling, poorly printed portraits. Lots of ads for area biznesses for whomst you shall never have any use, then the tons of car & real estate ads at the back, w/minuscule, thoroughly illegible photos of vehicles/houses/buildings. My dreams were esp like those awful little pictures, over and over again.
Finally had a good, solid weirdie, which is much more common fare when I’m ill. I woke up just at dawn on one of two full size beds in an otherwise empty living room, surrounded by acid green and neon yellow and V bright white walls/trim/ceiling. I had never seen this room before. There were only mattress pads & plain white bottom sheets on both beds, no top sheets, pillows nor blankets. They were not close to each other. There was plenty of space between them. I could see the houses across the street when I sat up on the bed, and knew I was still on my own block. I was in a nightgown and barefoot. The flip flops who pass as my slippers were nowhere to be seen. I was naturally V discomfited and discombobulated by all this, and silently slipped outside. I’d been in a house (which doesn’t exist) just a few doors S of ours, and gingerly made my chilly way home - musta been spring or autumn. Everything was wet w/dew, and the light was a graying Golden Hour’s and very dreamy. I saw I’d left the front and inner doors open (but the storm door was shut) as I approached our porch steps, and realized I musta sleepwalked over there, found the front door unlocked, and “went back to bed.”
So satisfyingly weird, rather than dull and dumb.
I’m just glad I didn’t make anyone (including a bear family!) angry that I’d sleepwalked into one of their (WTF???) living room beds.
Maybe I’d been too recently thinking about not feeding birds in some places to avoid attracting bears. My brain never could resist having a Jolly Good Laugh at my expense, so they cooked up a rather obscurely Goldilocks-flavored dream w/which to mess w/me. 
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So many stories to tell. Frankly, I prefer telling oral stories when speaking with others you can really add a lot to the story with your tone, pacing, body language, etc. I think i have a knack for it, and my patience for writing isn’t as great as i wish it could be but here it goes.
I did my last year as an exchange student in the US (i was raised in Venezuela), and my host family was Mormon and they lived on the outside of a really small, mostly Mormon, town out in the middle of nowhere Nevada. The road to get into town was a winding dirt road where on one side it was farms and on the other it was the Nevada desert, but that side was mostly rocky hills than flatland. To head to school i could either get in the Suburban car with all of the (4) kids or if i wanted to i could grab one of their 4 wheelers/ATVs and drive myself to school, and driving the ATV was great because i could floor it and drift the occasional sharp turn in the dirt road, or just go at my own pace and enjoy the scenery. I mostly drove like a maniac, other cars were never an issue because most of the time the only people using that road was the family i lived with.
One winter day i put on a heavy winter jacket, a helmet, gloves, and my school backpack and i set off in the ATV. As i set off I decide that i’m going to floor it and get a really sweet drift on the first turn. To my left is a fairly tall hill so i can’t see the other side of the turn as the road hugs and goes around the hill, hence the sharp turn. I purposefully fishtail a bit and start the drift early, i’m flooring it as much as i dare to and things are going as planned until i’m finally on the other side of the hill, then I notice something that wasn’t there even the day before. Right at the end of my drift line i see a metal post, it is one of the ends of a cattle guard and it sure as hell looks like the back tire of the ATV will hit it. With my speed coupled with the fact that i’m drifting on a dirt road means that no amount of breaking or turning is going to spare me.
As i’m barreling towards the post i brace myself, predictably and inevitably the back tire slams into the metal post and i am launched over the front of the ATV. I land hard on my back, nothing hurts i think to myself as i stare stupidly at the cold blue sky from the ground… until a flying, tumbling ATV enters my frame of vision and it seems to be flying at me. I snap out of my dumbfounded state and i roll as hard as i can to the side as the ATV slams sideways on the exact spot i was laying on moments ago. Somehow i manage to get to my feel and stare at the wrecked vehicle, and i look off into the distance towards a house on a hill and i see a familiar Suburban driving down towards me. All i can think is i’m in a lot of trouble as the car slows to a stop a few feet from the wreckage.
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About a week or two later after the ATV was fixed i also almost stranded myself out in the middle of nowhere on top of a hill way, way off trail.
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You really are/were a bit of a
innit!
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I managed to get home safely with no one the wiser! 
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moveslikekeithrichards
adults need to receive stickers. adults should give each other stickers. i gave my dad a sticker months ago for fixing some ongoing plumbing issue & hes still wearing it
merelygifted
I was in my late teens - early 20s the last time I regularly bought star stickers. I’d give gold stars to my friends and acquaintances whenever they were esp witty, fun, or did something really cool. They were invariably thrilled to get them. Even the big scary punk guys would say, “OMG! A gold star?! Thanks so much, Chris!” and they’d put ‘em on their foreheads, just like happy kindergarteners. If it fell off, they’d even beg for a replacement!
Whenever our friends saw someone sporting a gold one, they’d have to ask, “Wow! How’d you get a gold star from Chris?” Anyone who earned more than one during the course of a night out was beside themselves with happiness. Our friends would approach them almost with awe to ask how they’d accomplished such a feat.
I’d give them to out of town bands who were excellent, and none of their members’ reactions were any different. Perfect strangers would hug me after I gave them their stars.
Silver ones were usually given with the comment, “That was almost gold star material…” and they were still heartily welcomed. Folks who said they disliked gold got silver ones, too.
I dislike red, so I gave red ones to those who’d done or said something shitty, or when they’d annoyed me. Other friends’d see a red one, and say to the wearer, “Oh, man. You fucked up, huh?” Despite their being thoroughly embarrassed, and with no further prompting, they’d tell them exactly how they’d fucked up.
Only one or two people ever turned them down, and I quickly learned those people were best avoided anyway - their earning a gold star that night had been a fluke, a one-off.
Very rarely did a gold one get offered to an edgelord jerk who wanted to see what other colors I had, or insisted they pick the color, or demanded a color I didn’t have. I’d just walk away as soon as they approached being irritating, leaving them w/o a star, and avoided them from then on. Somehow my friends always witnessed that whenever it happened, and they spread the word that the person was obviously an asshole.
It’s safe to assume there are guitars and amps floating around the Greater Detroit area who still bear the gold stars their players had deservingly received during the 80s.
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Stickers are fun. I still enjoy them and would be happy to receive one randomly
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When I was a little girl, I met another little girl who was wearing an ankh necklace. When I happily noted it and said, “Oh, an ankh! That’s the Ancient Egyptian sign for life!” she got mad. She said, “No, it’s not! It’s the cross of Jesus!” When I told her the ankh actually predated Jesus by thousands of years, she got even more angry.
I went home, rather than trying to play with someone who was already that hardcore into disinformation. I wouldn’t bother bringing over a book about Ancient Egypt, and showing her her own & her parents’ error.
Despite her being so nasty, I really felt sorry for her. Having met so many other kids who had wholeheartedly bought into their parents’ lies, rather than doing research & reading newspapers other than the Detroit News,* I figured her parents had also told her that nixon was a great man, and it was a real shame he was being so mistreated.
*The Detroit News was the very last newspaper in the country to admit that yes, nixon may have been involved in a little wrongdoing. Most folks in Grandma’s neighborhood had indoctrinated their minds and children with that paper’s hyper-conservative lies.
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