I Was Cursed Out By a 78-Year-Old Trump Supporter Because I Was Driving Home From Work
Here I was waiting at a left turn light. I hear frantic beeping and look to my left to see an elderly man sitting in the passenger seat of a small silver coupe.
His face is distorted, beet-red, eyes bulging. He’s already hanging out of the passenger window, gesticulating wildly.
I roll down the Jeep window to hear this salty old dog of at least 78 years screaming,
“You fucking idiot! You are a fucking moron! You should be locked up! Why are you …”
I listened for a bit more.
“What is the matter?” I asked in a mild tone.
“You were fucking blocking the entire road for ages! No one could get by! No one like you should be allowed to drive! …” (more f-bombs, spittle flying).
I have to give this old bastard credit; I didn’t hear the c-word once.
I look to the drivers’ seat. A small dark-haired elderly woman is seated beside him. She’s the honker. Her sallow pinched features are those of a woman who leaves a $1 tip on a $60 salad luncheon bill. I glimpse a flash of pearls.
So this vehicle is to my Jeep’s left in a double left-hand turn lane. This car is the third one in the near left-hand turn lane. I am the third car in the farther left-hand turn lane. There are approximately 15 cars behind each of us.
The light is backed up as it always is. This is the corner near the school where I’ve taught for 20 years; the intersection is often crowded and backed up two or more lights.
I know I didn’t cut this car off. There was no one behind me for the first go-round of the light and this vehicle was not present there.
The only place this car could have come from was from the other side of the intersection. This car had nothing to do with me …
Well no matter.
I looked down at this beet-faced specimen of subhumanity.
“Do you think this is appropriate?” I asked in a quiet, measured tone. This is approximately a 2.5 minute light.
“You should be in a mental institution!” he screamed. “You should never be allowed to drive. People like you should be in prison!” More f-bombs, etc.
“Have you ever driven in Los Angeles, sir?” I asked.
“Of course I have! [more invective]” What a filthy old liar. If he had, he would certainly not be doing what he was doing at that moment.
“So, do you think it’s wise to approach any other car this w ay where you don’t know the driver?” I asked in my ‘Family Service Waiting Room tone’ - the one I developed for use with strung out tweakers yelling for me to pay their overdue electric bill.
More foul language, more abuse.
“You really don’t know if someone in another car has a weapon, do you?”
This actually shut the guy up for .5 seconds. I thought I saw a glimmer of concern on the woman’s face.
So right now, here’s what readers should know. I drive a 2006 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon with a winch and a USMC and USN sticker on the rear bumper. I have much-loved cracked and weatherbeaten black and yellow magnetic ribbon that says “Support Individuality” and my spare tire cover says “Life is Good.”
“We’ve got a weapon,” he says.
His wife’s pinched face had taken on a greenish look.
So the light changes. His car moves up and I see the license plate. Then I see the make and model.
I’ve since looked this up and this thing is a $45,000 to $50,000 car.
I also note the Trump 2020 sticker on the bumper .
We go around the corner and I park in the deli parking lot while these bozos drive on toward the mall.
I dial the non-emergency Sheriff number.
“Hi,” I said. “You’ve got an elderly unhinged road rage guy headed north on Marguerite.”
I describe the incident to the operator. She asks if he brandished his weapon.
“Nope,” I said. “No brandishing. But if he keeps this up somebody’s going to do more than brandish at him.”
This is South Orange County so they are seldom too busy. We have a few laughs.
On which planet do 78-year-old men being driven around by their wives consider this appropriate behavior?
Hilldawg’ s Planet.
This brute is their exact same age and just exactly as decent, humane, full of common sense and great to be around as they are.
My grandfather, who was the Sunkist packing house foreman, who owned a ten acre orange grove I grew up in and who was the Sheriff during the 1940s, told me, “Honey, never point a gun at someone unless you know you mean to use it.”
He didn’t have to tell me not to curse a stranger out in a car over nothing.
As many have pointed out, these people are old and will not live much longer. B ut what a poisonous legacy they have made. What a toxic and horrific heritage they have laid upon us all, and our children and grandchildren.