Traffic Altercation

I was headed down the gentle sweep on the six-lane concrete connector in town. The weather was beautiful, a flawless sky of purest clear azure above, the sun beaming brilliantly, and the river bouncing golden sparks below the white concrete bridge. The concrete of the deck was new, pure and yet unmarred by the passage of so many vehicles. Great day to be out, driving, driving anywhere.

I was in the left lane, and drifted left into a lane that I could see would veer to the left. An exit of some sort, apparently, and I went with it, for whatever reason. Once across the river, the road began to rise with the bluff, and I could see a few hundred yards ahead a sort of T intersection, another road entering from the left. My lane continued on as a feeder for the road I'd just left, and a left-turn lane began to open. Traffic entering from the left had their own merge lane on the left, and the whole feeder led right back to the main travel lanes from which I'd exited just before.

I just kep going, straight along the feeder, headed back to the main road. Where to? I have no idea, but I had exited left for some reason, and then was getting right back onto the main road for some reason, whatever it was/they were.

As I prepared to merge, I glanced over my right shoulder to check. There was a just a glimpse of a white vehicle there, but not too close, so I gassed the car a bit and slid into the merge lane, then merged right. There was a stoplight turning red, so I slowed. The white vehicle was right up my ass, tight, the only explanations being he'd charged there to try to cut me off, or to protest my merge in front of him.

As I rolled gently to the stopline and halted, I was no longer in a car but kind of on foot. I had a big mattress sort of thingy, like a big dog bed, soft and fluffy, but not heavy at all. I plopped it down at the stopline and sat down on it, Aladdin-style. That's when the white car behind me inched up and hit me. I was offended, scared at first, but it was only canvas and some polypro fill in my doggie-bed-vehicle, nothing to get worked up about. No scratches, no dents, no injuries, so what should I get uptight about? Sure, the guy did it on purpose, but he was just an ass, so best to just let it go.

The light changed, and I on my magic dog bed glided forward, taking my time, but also not intentionally dawdlilng, not trying to pick a fight with the guy behind. The nature of my propulsion in my, ah, unique mode of transportation was not a concern at all. A few hundred yards down was another stoplight. I was going straight, and the white car, which I now identified as a beater white boxy Toyota or some such, whipped into the right lane, came up alongside me, and the guy leaned out and spit the biggest honkin' phlegm gloob I'd ever seen onto me and my cool doggie bed ride. Okay, ya fuck, it's go time.

Since I was so low to the street, all I could do was reach out with a fist, and as hard as I could I pounded flat and hard into his left rear quarter panel, smack in the center. The effect was exactly what I wanted, the metal buckling in and a huge, prominent dent appearing in the panel.

White Toyota guy was waiting for a comeback, as his reaction was immediate. He pulled up over the curb onto the sidewalk, and was out the open door almost before he had the car fully stopped. Me, I was still sitting, literally, in the main travel lane. No reason to get upset, not yet. I just sat there, crossy-legged, waiting for things to develop.

He charged toward me and I held up a flat hand in admonishment, "Let it go, pal. Just let it go."

He stopped, not ready for that kind of approach. He took another step and I again warned, "We're even now, and if you're smart you won't push it."

I could see his brow wrinkling in thought, my words replaying in his head, his mind churning through the individual word meanings, adding up the bigger meaning, working through a couple of scenarios and possible outcomes. He was cogitating hard, only now starting to think ahead to what might develop now, what I'd been doing since I exited the road before the bridge and he'd tapped me.

He looked like a Weird Al Yankovich without the cheezy moustache, but with those same dated aviator frame glasses, the lenses thick inside the frames with green mold and grime under the glass. He matched his car, cheap and beat and poorly maintained. Except he had jet-black dreads, long too. And a soiled Disneyland Goofy hat, with the muzzle of Goofy jutting out jauntily toward me. A fascinating picture, I noted.

He'd made his decision, and charged me. As he did, I simply stood up, to silently emphasize my size. As I rose to my full height, he measured out about 5'8", to my 6'4". That didn't deter him at all, and he came at me. I reached out and tweaked the Goofy hat nose as hard as I could, and it stunned him like I'd hit him. I couldn't tell if he was hooked to the nose, or just that offended by my desecration of his treasured hat. He came at me again, really hot. I knocked him down, to discover, only now for some reason, that below his soiled school-gym-gray baggy shorts, he had prosthetic metal legs. Kind of like really shiny chrome erector-set rigs, with lots of struts and bracing. It was a strangely mesmerizing visual presentation, the metal and its arrangement.

But he was still fighting, and fighting hard. He was unhinged, going all out, at least trying to go all out. But off his metal feet, there wasn't much he could do. I simply pulled both metal legs off, out of the dirty shorts. I bent them over and over, folding them like an aluminum can, and threw them into the street. Only then did I notice a small crowd had formed. The crumpled legs were being hit by the passing cross-traffic, flattening with every strike.

I sat back down on my doggie bed vehicle, and merged slowly back out into traffic to continue on my way.