I had a fun little minor heart attack this afternoon when I almost got killed in my car by some jerkass in a pickup truck on his cell phone.
I was coming back to the studio after a run. I’d like to describe how it happened, but it’s a lot easier to make a crappy diagram:
The guy had a stop sign, and I did not (thus me having a green direction arrow and him having a red one), and he had seen half a dozen people go by him.
I think he didn’t see my turn signal, and was just going to follow me down the street. But as I turned, I saw him coming out and leaned on the horn.
I instinctively hit the brakes and slammed to a stop as he managed to stop literally six inches from my car, about to hit me head-on on the driver’s side.
My window was down, and I could have reached out and punched the grill of his truck. I was thorougly tempted to.
I decided against tempting fate, because seeing as how a) he was driving a pickup truck and more importantly, b) he lives in Los Angeles, both of which meant he was probably armed, and I didn’t feel like getting shot at.
I think one incident of almost kissing my ass goodbye is enough for one day, thanks.