Don't Give me the Finger on the Highway

By Allen Van Hoosier

I would like to spend a few moments talking about rage. Not road rage per se, inasmuch as the event occurred on the road.
While pulling out on to I-164 the other morning, I pulled into the left hand lane – at best going around 15 miles per hour into the oncoming path of a white SUV who was already going around 40 in the right hand lane. No hindrances to he or myself, just moving along to go to work, like everyone else at 7:30 a.m.

For some reason, I have yet to figure it out, after we have gone down the road about a half a mile, both having slowed up because we were both a part of a larger traffic conglomerate, he passed me on the left and when he went by, he gave me the finger and lipped the words "fuck you."

Now this was a bit shocking. First I had to run in my mind what it was I had done to so anger this man in his 2007 off-white Buick Rendezvous that had a bumper-sticker on the back-right bumper that said, "I’d rather be golfing." And I could come up with nothing.
Before I go further, I need to discuss something in pop-psychology called "the alligator brain."
This refers to the crossroads that each of find ourselves at in many situations where we act passively or aggressively.

Now most people, I would dare to say 97% of the world have the alligator brain and suppress the actions that may take place as its result. However – the other 3% aren’t that controllable. I sometimes find myself a member of the other 3%.
Enter our friendly yuppie finger-waiver, and a chance meeting with Allen Van Hoosier.
Weather or not it is an endearing trait or a dangerous one, it’s as simple as this: I do not, never have nor ever will take shit from anyone. And I also think that it is wrong to think that "God’s justice rains upon the just and the unjust alike. If you don’t believe this way, that’s your prerogative, but I think there’s nothing wrong in making a point as an ends to a means.
Back to the yuppie scum bag.

After the finger-flipping was over with, I changed like lanes and sped up like Dale Earnhardt, Jr. to catch up with our genius of sign language. I tail-gated him all over Evansville, him obviously aware that now – someone was truly after him, and as far as he was concerned, this "someone" was a little "off kilter." I chased him all over the city limits – due to the fact that he tried to make sure he would hit all green lights fearing that a red-light intersection might mean something scary for him. His Roll Was finally called up yonder: red light at the intersection downtown. 15 cars at the intersection. I am five feet behind him at the red light.

Important note – during this whole event, I never felt anxiety, fight or fight syndrome, nor blood pressure not wavering. I was as calm as a church mouse. I put my car in park, get out, straighten out the cashmere black dress top coat I was wearing and proceed to walk toward his SUV. AT this point I am sure the drivers of about 15 cars were wondering what the Hell was going on. I was feeling no more emotion than I would when walking down through Target.
Additional note: I have a large stature, and weigh 240 as a result of weight lifting. I had dress clothes on – and it was black clothes day: black attire from head to toe. I made it a point to walk slow up to the car, and turned to look down into the window of his SUV. He was 35-40 looking dressed up guy with black Oakly sunglasses on, his hair still wet. Had his window cracked about 2 inches. He hunkered rather low to his floorboard – with only the steering wheel to block him from going any further.

I was to later find out from my brother that he was doing this because he thought I was going to shoot him. He looked over at me slowly and at that point I said to him, in a slow deeply reverberating monotone voice, "perhaps you should think about who you give the finger to next time, especially if it’s me." and simply turned and walked slowly back to my car. He said nothing in reply.

I turned my car around in traffic and headed towards my place of employment. The very first thing I did when I arrived at work was to consult with my alter-ego and man of more tactile sense to himself than I will ever have. I told him the entire scenario about what had just happened. I also asked him, "Hey – what do you think was up with him lowering himself towards his floorboard? He replied, "He was either reaching for his gun, which I doubt he had, or he was getting ready to prepare for seeing the last of earth. I have a tendency to think it was the latter on not the former."

I also told him out concern for my own stability, "Dude – I never got nervous, excitable, and no heart racing. I chased that guy all over Evansville with the full intent of speaking to him. What does that mean?"
To which he replied, "Well – that’s simple. You’re fuckin nuts."

So with this new epiphany, I consulted a lifelong friend and attorney. I told him the whole sordid play by play of what had just transpired. Here is his response to my as to my question, "Did I break a law when doing what I did?"

Perhaps, but doubtful. Intimidation, perhaps, as the party who flipped the other off is not doing anything wrong -- he has a right to flip "the other guy" off, and the second person is placing him in fear for doing something he has a right to do.
You can legally flip anyone off -- even a cop -- although I would not recommend it. I do it occasionally to cops I know, and have been pulled over by them after they do a u-turn. It kind of pisses them off when they realize it is only me, but then I remind them that since they legally cannot pull someone over just for flipping them off, they should be glad it is only me or it could be someone who would be suing them for a civil rights violation.
This is second only to my practice, when I see a cop pull in behind me, and I am stone-cold sober, I will slow down to right at the speed limit and start weaving within my lane. Perfectly legal, but I have been pulled over several times on suspicion of drunk driving when I have done this. They are not pleased when I blow a 0.0 and they ask why I was weaving and I reply that I was just screwing with them because I saw them behind me.
With all of your tattoos, I would not recommend this for you.

I told him my concern about the fact that I did not elevate in pulse or blood pressure when any of this occurred. His response was:
I think that is called "sociopathic tendency" in the psychological field.

SO with my new-found psychological self-actualization, I started to analyze my own psychological well-being about "what kind of person would do what I did? He could have pulled out a gun on me. But I knew this was a possibility the whole time I was following him, and it especially came to mind when I walked up to his car. But yet, I am still walking to his car! I had the whole scenario played out in my head. If he pulls a gun, he’s going to be nervous. After all, Yuppie golfers driving mini-soccor-mommy SUV’s aren’t known for their skill with firearms. In any event, if he pulls one, drop away from his window. If not – go ahead with the intimidation as originally planned. As was the case.

This putz knew nothing about violence, hitting or being hit. He knew nothing of the world that I knew: one foot on the wrong side of the tracks and the other in – well – the one that you the reader is in. For Christ’s sake – I’m a computer nerd with a wife and kids, house, three-car garage. Obviously, I keep that other foot held firmly on the other side of the tracks for very good reasons. This dickhead only knew about golfing, fantasy football, his Dish Network Sports Package, making payments on his hot tub. And perhaps he cared about his wife when needed to get laid. And then this big man on the street yuppie cowered down beneath his car seat like the bottom-feeder he was.

My hope was this. The next time this royal suburbanite sees me coming, he will get off the street or hide his face. The other – the next time he want’s to flip off someone in traffic, he will have what alcoholics call a "moment of clarity" and stop and really give the idea a second thought.
He was lucky this time. I know people, and a few of them are close friends of mine, that when given the finger (and what I about to say is true from a friend of mine from a road trip to Charleston, SC) in traffic for virtually no reason, the guy may just pull over quickly to pull the plates off of his vehicle, and then speed back up to catch up with you. And even when you pull into a gas station fearing what may happen, he will take out his Louisville slugger and go to work on your windshield, head lights, tail lights, side panels, rear view mirrors, and then pull out the mini-wire cutters he has in his back pocket and snip the valve stems of your tires.
So – on the highway, DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO YOU. And if you are yourself – a highway finger-flipper: If I accidentally bump into you at the shopping mall, if you don’t have the gonads to flip me off 3 feet from me while walking by each other, use the same potentially life-endagering discretion on the highway.

But ask anyone who really knows me – the good side of me, and they will tell you I am a sympathetic person, filled with empathy, caring and love, who lives to make people laugh.
And no ...
I do not need therapy.