Time: approximately 5:30 p.m.
Location: Bowmanville, Ontario
While on my way to work, another vehicle pulled out in front of me. Now, keep in mind that it was slightly busy at this time of day, and this driver may not have known exactly what he did. But that's really here nor there.
When someone pulls out in front of me, I would expect that he immediately hits the gas with force to make sure he now has ample room in front of me...This driver did not do this. Instead, he continued on in the way that a 90-year old grandmother would: Hovering arounf the 50 km/h mark while not only holding up myself, but the other 260 cars behind me.
Now from here, I am not far from the 401 West exit. But I guessed (correctly) soon after he pulled out in front of me where he was going.
You guessed it: West on the 401.
After making the slow turn onto the ramp, I noticed this driver looking around, enjoying the scenery as if he was the only driver on the road. I despise this.
At this point, I started tailgating and threw up my arms in dismay.
He responded as I hoped he would. He tapped his brakes and made his own gesture to let me know he saw me make mine. (Only now does he realize I'm behind him, it seems)
Next, I gain speed like one should, so that I am able to blend in with the flow of traffic. I pass the other motorist.
As I do, I flip him the bird. I've had it. He looks at me. I'm not sure what he does, except he thinks what I just did was amusing.
So now I'm passed this clown. But now he wants me to know that his Monte Carlo has some giddyup, and he speeds past me at a rate that I wasn't sure he was capable of doing just minutes earlier.
He laughs as he zooms by.
By now, I'm satisfied that I'm on my way and can do my regular speed of around 120 km/h.
The Monte Carlo is probably a kilometre away now, and presumably out of my life.
Except, I notice that I'm creeping closer and closer to this jackass.
I eventually pass him, and when I do, I look into my rear view mirror and notice that this guy is now rubbing his hands together and urging me to "come on" by waving his hands like you would if you were ever telling someone to "bring it on."
I laugh to myself and try to ignore the man who resembles some sort of biker who isn't used to four wheels.
Eventually, he realizes I'm not into any sort of games he has in mind, so he pulls past me again.
Only this time, he proceeds to mouth the word "pussy" and challenges my manhood by placing his thumb and index finger mere inches apart. Centimetres maybe. (I'm average)
Again, I laugh. I also flip him the bird again while mouthing my own set of words: "fuck you."
This retard is loving this moment in his life and I think to myself, "how pathetic, this is the highlight of his day, maybe even his year."
By now I'm wondering if he's going to follow me to work, and I cursed myself for not leaving my bat in the trunk at the conclusion of baseball season.
But he didnt follow me to work.
He got off in Pickering, thus ending one of the most entertaining drives to work that I'd ever encountered.
Loser!
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