What's Road Rage Got to Do with It?

Sometimes premonition is not enough. The inkling of something bad on the brink of happening is not enough to prevent disaster. Saturday night was one such episode. Leaving the city, just departing the Lincoln Tunnel and I'm sideswiped by a big white commercial laundry truck. Just moments before, as the truck lumbered next to me racing up the helix I thought, go as fast as you want bucko, just don't hit me. Then slam! Crunch! and I'm being grinded into the median.

That's pretty sucky in its own right. Getting slammed on a busy concourse like the Lincoln Tunnel. The Transit folks hate a breach in their precious traffic patterns. And the cops sure as hell hate having to endanger themselves for twisted metal. But wait, it gets worse. After taking off most of my front bumper and annihilating my right rear view mirror, the bastard drives off. First I thought he plans to pull over at a convenient exit. But after passing 2 such exits I realized the POS intended to pull a hit and run. This enraged me almost as much as animal cruelty or human trafficking. Confronted with two options - let the rat bastard drive away without accountability or chase him down. I chose the latter.

Luckily my Honda CRV earned its ranking as the highest rated SUV, even post body trauma so when I hit the gas she raced up the helix in pursuit of the hit and runner. I cruised by the passenger window and vehemently motioned for the truck to pull over. I believe I used words to the effect of: "Pull the fuck over. You hit my car." The passenger blithely denied any collision until I forced him to pull over in the median between Route 3 West and Exit 15E of the NJ Turnpike.

At this point I had no idea the extent of damage my CRV had sustained. Luckily the fender, hood and right front door were the victims. I pulled out my camera and took shots of my car, their truck, especially their license plates, which were NY state. At this point they began protesting. There was no damage to their truck, the driver said pointing meaningfully to his aged white piece of crap. My response was calling 911.

It must have been a quiet day for I was immediately picked up by an operator. She dispatched 2 cruisers who arrived within minutes. I am happy to report the first question everyone asked is, Are you ok ma'am? The officers were young and friendly. They didn't strike me as authority thirsty gun-loving men. Matter of fact, to depressurize me one asked if I had a nice evening. Was I enjoying the weather?

The tactic worked and provided no end of amusement to my GFs in later tellings. I told the officers my story, to which they nodded but were unable to issue an accident report given their limited jurisdiction. Apparently the WPD - Weehawken police department were the only ones capable of capturing my report. So they requested a dispatch from the appropriate department. Meanwhile, given that we were in the middle of traffic the officers escorted us to a gas station. Antsy to get along his merry path of destruction the truck driver almost side swiped me in an effort to follow the cops! Dude! can you be more incriminating?

Well, alls well that ends well, I suppose. The Weehawken PD issued me a report, corroborated that the accident was the truck's fault and kindly hammered the fender back into place with his fist.

I didn't even think of myself as a road rage instigator, but upon reflection I suppose that's exactly what I was. I won't make a habit of it, that's for sure. Although I felt fine from the impact when I got home I was nauseous all night long.

Must have been all that road rage adrenaline.