Careless Geriatric Drivers

I can usually tell what kind of day it's going to be within the first hour of waking. Today was no different -- and once the day takes a turn for the worse, the entire day is shot.

I was taking my normal commute to work this morning when I nearly totaled my car. I was driving down one of the major arteries of my city, when I spotted a Chrysler leaving the parking lot of a neighborhood Medical Arts Centre. I saw him from about 100 meters back, and noticed he wanted to turn left onto a 4-lane road. I also saw him inching forward, anticipating his turn.

In fact, he began turning left on the road as I quickly approached him -- and he was on a collision course with my vehicle. I slammed on my breaks and came to a screeching halt not 3 meters from his car. From my vantage point, I could tell that this driver was so old, all I could see was his knuckles on the steering wheel. What the idiot driver did next, I could hardly believe. He stopped his car, blocking two lanes of traffic. There was no way I could go around him.

That's when a gasket blew somewhere in my skull. I completely lost it, I was so angry. It was a damn good thing that I had my seatbelt on, as I am sure I would have jumped out of my car and done something I would live to regret. The first thing on my mind was to destroy his drivers' license. Resorting to verbal and physical abuse was the immediate second thought on my mind. I stared at him with the most vicious face I could, full of wrath, burning holes through him with my evil eyes, and I madly pointed my fingers at him to get the hell out of my way. As he crossed my path, he looked at me, and hopefully with his dim eyesight, he could see me telepathically tell him: "And your children, too".

Part of me really wanted my car to collide with his. His vehicle was in the wrong; I was on a major street, the parking lot is controlled by a stop sign. But I just got my car fixed. I have paid an astronomical amount of insurance premiums in the last few years. And the last time I totaled my car, the experience was traumatic enough, that I never want to go through the experience again.

If the roads were icy, the collision would have happened, and it would not have been a pretty sight. I am thanking my lucky starts that even though the roads were wet, there was enough traction to allow me to stop, and ultimately avoid the collision.

I ended up being pissed-off the entire day.

Then, in the afternoon while I was running some errands, I narrowly avoided another accident. Not two blocks from where I was nearly struck in the morning, and old white boat is leaving a parking lot, turning right onto a 4-lane street. He was at a stop sign, but decided to stop and shoulder check once his vehicle was halfway into the lane, and I was fast approaching. I slammed on my brakes again, and came to a full stop with a few meters to spare, otherwise I would have taken off the front half of his car. Guess what? He was another old and blind driver, who apparently had one foot in the grave. Once again, I had to let the offending driver get out of my way, even though I had the right-of-way. I am thanking my lucky stars that nobody had been tailing me at either incident, or it might have been my car that got turned into a tin can, with me being the main ingredient.

In hindsight, I am somewhat surprised that I never used my horn in either near-miss. In fact, I almost never use my horn. I suppose there is good reason for that, because I cannot stand being honked at myself. Using a horn on me is a good reason to replace your windshield. The horn enrages me, and once again, the seatbelt comes to save my life, as it usually keeps me firmly planted to my seat. This is also the reason why I do not keep a crowbar in my vehicle, as it would more than likely be used as a bludgeoning weapon, rather than for tire replacement. Yes, the horn is a direct-link to my insane realm -- and I have no idea why it affects me so. But when someone honks at me, I always end up playing some scenario out in my head where I get out of my vehicle, force the driver open the hood of his car and proceed to rip out the horn with my bare hands. I then envison slashing the tires, smashing the headlights in, destroying the windshield and slamming his thick skull in the car door. That should give the offending driver a clear message that they should never honk their horn at me.

Yes, I suffer from Road Rage, and from what I have written, you can tell I have a pretty bad case of it. If you watched me drive, you wouldn't realize my affliction. I don't drive like a bat out of Hell, and I don't hog the road. But I do have a zero-tolerance for asshead drivers who think they own the road. And if I could, I would like to take those incarnates (cocky, rushed, careless road hogs) off the road permanently.

I cannot believe that there aren't as many accidents in this city as there are. The drivers are among the worst I have ever seen. Apparently the demographics have shown that drivers 16-25 are at the highest risk of getting into a collision. From my experience, it is the drivers aged 65 and up that are the worst drivers.

In the last three weeks, I have narrowly avoided five collisions (and they occurred on two separate days). The offending drivers of each and every vehicle that narrowly escaped the wrath of my insurance company were all above the age of 65.

I really would like to know what these people are paying in insurance premiums. I will agree that young drivers are a risky demographic, but we also get taken to cleaners by the insurance agencies. I have just spent three years of my life paying astronomical insurance premiums, and I am sick and tired of paying what I do. Seniors get all kinds of tax breaks, insurance breaks, and even "seniors' discounts" of almost every imaginable commodity. If these geriatric drivers are so bad, why aren't they paying insurance premiums that are comparative to those of the 16-25 demographic? If those seniors had the choice of paying the premiums of my younger "careless" counterparts, perhaps it might be enough to keep the worst ones off the road.