Saturday, March 20, 2010

Spitting bullets

There I was, out for a little errand-running ride on my motorcycle. Unfortunately mid-afternoon on a Saturday is not a good time to be anywhere near the Mall of the Emirates, and sure enough I found myself stuck in heavy traffic. It was pointless trying to beat the traffic, what with a signal a hundred metres or so ahead which would surely turn red before I reached it, so I bimbled along behind a Nissan Tiida being piloted by a driver who was clearly more interested in his mobile phone than his driving.

But this angry post is not about the Tiida or the mobile telephone. It's about the Arabic-speaking gentleman in a new Land Cruiser who decided to undertake me and my motorbike by using a bus layby. When it had become apparent that the layby was rather shorter than the distance needed to complete this manoeuvre, the driver of the Cruiser had a choice of three obvious courses of action:-
  1. Bounce up the kerb;
  2. Stamp on the brakes;
  3. Push the motorbike out of his way.
He chose the third option, to my immediate surprise and displeasure.

Now, I was unable to take any evasive action. With cars to my left, a Land Cruiser to my right and a Tiida ahead, where was I supposed to go? I stopped.

There was a bellowing of Toyota horn, a shriek of brakes, and then the Cruiser swerved behind me, pushed into the lane to my left, the passenger side window opened, and I was treated to a torrent of Arabic abuse. I don't understand the words, but the tune was obvious.

Given the nature of the offence (and the scratch to my paintwork), I yelled back: "You! Police! Now!" before noting that the damage was extremely superficial, and...well, what was the point? The Land Cruiser driver showed no inclination to stop and await the arrival of the Constabulary.

I noted his registration number, but since getting home I'm extremely irritated to have lost the scrap of paper on which it was written.



Jayne said...

Real bummer to say the least. They do it because they can & it always made me as mad as a spitting cobra (whilst living in the Sandpit), because arseholes like that simply DON'T CARE! The good news is you weren't injured.
The day that people like that driver are made to suffer the consequences of their selfish actions, will be the day I'll get pregnant.

Dave said...

What an arsehole he was. But hey, he must have saved a good 10 seconds off his trip to Starbucks.

ooops I'd better not say said...

Is it worth getting a camera fixed to the front of the bike for moments like that! Either that or metal blades on the outside of your boots so you can get his tyres! Could be great - a kind of flick knife affair that can flick out, stab the tyres and then flick back in and disappear completely.... oh dear, I'm fantasizing now!

Grumpy Goat said...

It's a thought, isn't it ooops? The Rosa Klebb Motorcycle Boot.

Fortunately, this level of arrogance and stupidity ("all in one package; how efficient of you" - Londo Mollari is mercifully rare. If it happened every time I went out on the bike, I'd not feel the need to blog about it.

the real nick said...

Repeat after me:
Inner peace.
Inner peace.


The opinions expressed in this weblog are the works of the Grumpy Goat, and are not necessarily the opinions shared by any person or organisation who may be referenced. Come to that, the opinions may not even be those of the Grumpy Goat, who could just be playing Devil's Advocate. Some posts may be of parody or satyrical [sic] nature. Nothing herein should be taken too seriously. The Grumpy Goat would prefer that offensive language or opinions not be posted in the comments. Offensive comments may be subject to deletion at the Grumpy Goat's sole discretion. The Grumpy Goat is not responsible for the content of other blogs or websites that are linked from this weblog. No goats were harmed in the making of this blog. Any resemblance to individuals or organisations mentioned herein and those that actually exist may or may not be intentional. May contain nuts.