Auto assault (he drives like crazy)

Friday afternoon I was driving through a parking lot when it happened: some idiot backed his car into me. They say during traumatic experiences, things slow down for people. I remember sitting in my car watching it slowly happen–but I think the slowing effect was due to him going about three miles per hour. There was a green Lexus in front of me, also circling the lot for a spot. For reasons unknown to me, he stopped his vehicle and the reverse lights came on. The car started slowly backing towards me. I’m not sure why I didn’t honk the horn–probably because I didn’t believe what was happening before me. Dude had to have seen me–I was right behind him and it’s not like I came out of nowhere. Besides, what kinda idiot drives in reverse without looking behind him? Review mirror. Looking around. I figured he had to see me. Alas, he was as blind as I was wrong: even when he bumped me, I still couldn’t believe it was happening.

I didn’t know what to say or do, so I sat in my car contemplating my options. The guy was obviously an idiot but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come out yelling and screaming at him. I knew I probably should make sure no flies were harmed in our low-speed collision, evaluate damage, and then start yelling and screaming. But before I got a chance to react, I saw the reverse lights went off and the car move forward a foot.

As I tell the story, the most logical assumption was I had a runner: dude was going to take off without even giving me the courtesy to yell at him. But the thought never entered my mind because I didn’t have the time: the reverse lights came on again and again he bumped the Almighty Honda. Elapsed time between the two collisions: approximately 30 seconds.

This time I slammed on my horn.

I hopped out of my car and started shouting. This was no time for pleasantries. My policy for idiots is one mistake and one mistake only. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but once you get on my bad side I’m gonna letcha have it. Backing into a car makes you an idiot who made a mistake: doing it twice makes you clueless.

The guy got out of the car and looked completely baffled. He looked like one of those über traditional Asian folks who didn’t speak a lick of English. He either didn’t understand a word I said or was completely oblivious to hitting me (twice). I politely asked him what the hell he was doing: he looked at me like I was the psychopath. Charlie showed no emotion whatsoever–just a blank look on his face as I slowly walked away from his car.

I knew yelling at him would be useless (what’s the point of ripping someone a new one if they can’t understand what you’re saying). I’m sorry if this makes me look like a racist, xenophobic, or just a plan icehole, but this is exactly why driver’s license test should only come in English. If you can’t speak English, how are you supposed to communicate with other drivers? Even the middle finger isn’t a universal insult. This is America. If you wanna be a functional part of our society, learn the friggin’ language. Given the look on this guy’s face, I doubted her even had a license in the first place: it would go against his entitlement of living in America.

I checked for sure: just a minor scuff on the bumper (nothing compared to what the bus did). “Forget about it,” I said to him. “Just go.”

I got back in my vehicle; he got back in his…and just sat there. I kid you not: the two of us sat in our vehicle for at least a minute. I didn’t know what his holdup was–there was no one in front of him. I leaned my head out the window and told him to get a move on, but he didn’t budge. As far as I could tell, he was expecting me to move. My car was clearly in his way (hence the backing into me) and now that our bumpers kissed, he expected me to move and get out of his way. There was little chance of that happening since there was a car behind me. Not to mention, cars are designed to go forward. But that clearly didn’t matter much to this imbecile because he wasn’t moving.

I pressed my horn and did not let go. He might not’ve understood English, but I was pretty certain he understood the long, blearing wail of a car horn. I held it for at least 15 seconds before he started to move his car. He still didn’t go straight–instead, opted to try a u-turn in the single lane…barely big enough for a car to fit through. It turned into a 48-point turn; similar to the one Austin Powers did in “International Man of Mystery.” It took him a good minute to turn around–and the whole time, I had my palm pressed down on the horn.

Did I act like a loud-mouth jerk? Probably, but it was the only way I was gonna get any satisfaction. He didn’t speak English, so he would be impervious to my insults and degradation. Honking was the only way he’d truly know how angry I was. As he tells the story to his family, he’ll probably use it as another example of why Americans are loud, obnoxious, and inconsiderate. I doubt he’ll include the part where he hit me (twice)–but that’s probably because he was too stupid to realize he did it (twice).

And that’s my adventure of the weekend.