Road Rage

So today, I'm driving the kids home from school and I'm behind a white Lexus ES300 circa 2001 model. We're coming up on a traffic light and just as we're come upon it, it turns from green to yellow.

We're about 30 yards from the intersection when the light changes.

I'm expecting the white Lexus to go through the light because we're all going about 60 mph (which is 10 mph over the posted limit of 50, but a very common and safe speed on that particular road.) But instead of easily cruising through the intersection, the white Lexus' brake lights come on and its nose takes a serious dip as the car stops short. (If I lived in a sitcom, I'd suspect the driver was a young Frank Costanza putting the moves on Estelle.)

I have a few choices:

A) I can brake hard for an emergency stop that will, in all probability stop in time, but will be uncomfortable and scary for my passengers.

B) I can swerve to the left lane to avoid the Lexus but sideswipe the pick-up that is running doorhandle-to-doorhandle with me.

C) I can swerve illegally to the right and through a bike lane and right-turn lane.

I chose (D), accelerate, enough to get past the truck next to me an then swerve into the left lane, bypassing the yellow light and getting through the intersection without any danger to my passengers, fellow drivers, myself and also maintain the laws of the road.

Safe! All is well.

So I thought.

I get to the left turn lane that takes me into my neighborhood and lo and behold; in my rear view mirror is a 50-something woman in the white Lexus. I don't recognize her or her car from my neighborhood and I just know she's tailing me.

So I drive around the block a few times (because I'm not in the mood to reveal my home address to a road-raging menopausal short-stopper.) She continues to follow me through my neighborhood and I decide that talking is better than running (because, believe you me - if I wanted to simply lose her, like they do in the movies - it wouldn't have been hard to do.) I pull to the curb, stop the car and get out.

Her car is directly behind mine as I approach. I see through her windshield that she has her Treo and is busy taking pictures of my car and me. I say to her through her windshield, "let's talk." She starts going into reverse and continues to take pictures. She wags her index finger at me as if to say, "you're not going to get me!"

What?

She drives off.

For a moment I consider following her but then decide against it. What's the point. She got her jollies and she feels empowered. Yay. She got my picture. What will she do with it? (Perhaps blog it... doh! I *SHOULD* have followed her! Dang.)

Anyway, so that's my tale for the day. I don't know what that lady's problem was. Perhaps she thought I was being reckless and wanted to 'teach me a lesson'. Or perhaps she's just one of those passive aggressive types that dare you to do something and when you do, they turn and say, "too late!"

Zach and Hannah asked why that lady was taking pictures of me. I told them, "I dunno. Maybe she likes the way I'm dressed." They don't yet know what "passive aggressive" means.