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This really isn't a sucky customer story as much as it's the oddest case of road rage I've ever experienced.
Today I was driving home from work, and I was merging onto a freeway that soon ends at a traffic light. This freeway entry ramp has a very long gore point, the crossing of which is not only considered a moving violation where I live, but is accompanied by a hefty fine.
As I'm starting to merge legally onto the freeway, I notice a Land Rover zooming up behind me, easily doing 20+ MPH over the limit. But by this time I'm already merged and cruising at a comfortable distance behind the next car. I look back in my rearview mirror to see the Land Rover hovering right on my bumper, the driver wearing an angry glare on his face, and the other 3 passengers were in toddler seats. As we approach the stoplight at the end of the freeway, Soccer Dad managed to zip around me and get most of his vehicle in between me and the car I was following. This man then rolls down his window, hangs his head thinning, middle-aged, permed(?) head out and screams "You want me to fuck you up!? huh? You want me to come out there and fuck you up??"
I did the only thing I could think of when threatened bodily injury from an emaciated Dr Cox. I laughed. Apparently CoxLite™ didn't take kindly to being laughed at and gave more descriptive examples of hypothetical violence.
Again, all I could do was laugh.
This must have bruised his ego, and he tried to stick me with this barb "Yeah? funny huh? You drive a [Economy compact that probably gets over twice his gas mileage]!
"At least I know how to drive it!"
CoxLite was not one who was accustomed to being talked back to, as he turned 2 more shared of red and sweat began to bead on his brow. He let loose another barrage of imagined tortures strung together with conjuctive 'fuckity-fucks'.
I began laughing so hard that I started to tear up.
This did NOT sit well at all. He pulled himself further out the window, began shaking a tiny fist at me. His lip begin quivering in the fashion that one could tell brain-gears were turning, but the foot was firmly on the clutch. He knew he was running out of time, as the light would be green soon, so he focused his anger to form a string of words, whose emnity alone would forever burn them into my mind and cause me to collapse into a quivering puddle at their mention. His final shouted retort before attempting to peel out and almost hitting the car in front of him?
"Oh yeah? Well, you have stupid hair!"
Today I was driving home from work, and I was merging onto a freeway that soon ends at a traffic light. This freeway entry ramp has a very long gore point, the crossing of which is not only considered a moving violation where I live, but is accompanied by a hefty fine.
As I'm starting to merge legally onto the freeway, I notice a Land Rover zooming up behind me, easily doing 20+ MPH over the limit. But by this time I'm already merged and cruising at a comfortable distance behind the next car. I look back in my rearview mirror to see the Land Rover hovering right on my bumper, the driver wearing an angry glare on his face, and the other 3 passengers were in toddler seats. As we approach the stoplight at the end of the freeway, Soccer Dad managed to zip around me and get most of his vehicle in between me and the car I was following. This man then rolls down his window, hangs his head thinning, middle-aged, permed(?) head out and screams "You want me to fuck you up!? huh? You want me to come out there and fuck you up??"
I did the only thing I could think of when threatened bodily injury from an emaciated Dr Cox. I laughed. Apparently CoxLite™ didn't take kindly to being laughed at and gave more descriptive examples of hypothetical violence.
Again, all I could do was laugh.
This must have bruised his ego, and he tried to stick me with this barb "Yeah? funny huh? You drive a [Economy compact that probably gets over twice his gas mileage]!
"At least I know how to drive it!"
CoxLite was not one who was accustomed to being talked back to, as he turned 2 more shared of red and sweat began to bead on his brow. He let loose another barrage of imagined tortures strung together with conjuctive 'fuckity-fucks'.
I began laughing so hard that I started to tear up.
This did NOT sit well at all. He pulled himself further out the window, began shaking a tiny fist at me. His lip begin quivering in the fashion that one could tell brain-gears were turning, but the foot was firmly on the clutch. He knew he was running out of time, as the light would be green soon, so he focused his anger to form a string of words, whose emnity alone would forever burn them into my mind and cause me to collapse into a quivering puddle at their mention. His final shouted retort before attempting to peel out and almost hitting the car in front of him?
"Oh yeah? Well, you have stupid hair!"
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