I’m a Dumbass
That’s right, I’m a D-U-M-B-A-S-S.
A couple of years ago, a friend told me about an experience he’d had some years before. At the time he worked in banking in Washington, D.C. and his job required that he visit clients throughout the city. According to my friend, there was a lot of crime then, but nothing like they have today. Regardless, he felt the need to protect himself and carried a small handgun in the glove compartment of his car. The gun sat there untouched until one day another driver cut him off in traffic. Various rude hand gestures were followed by even ruder shouting, followed by an altercation. The other driver got out of his small car and, much to my friend’s dismay, was a mountain of a man. This other guy came charging up to my friend’s car. In self-defense my friend grabbed his gun and pointed it at the other guy as he reached the car window. Looking at the gun, the mountain said, “really?” My friend put the gun down and the two parted. Shaken, he pulled to the side of the road and thought about how he was a split-second away from drastically changing two lives.
I was reminded of this story last week.
Full disclosure: I used to be a driving maniac. Living in the Philadelphia suburbs required aggressive motoring, lest you’d always be stuck in the slow lane. Beeping horns, hand signals, speeding, running “pink” lights (those traffic lights that turn red just as the nose of your car enters the intersection) all were required to get from point A to point B. “Oh Mr. Driver, your blinking turn signal says you want to merge into my lane? Not so fast, buster!” Like I said, a way of life.
But, having moved to “Slower Lower Delaware,” I’ve calmed down completely. No “jackrabbit starts.” Approach a stop sign with another car at the intersection? “No, please, after you.” I let cars leaving parking lots into traffic. I’m like a Mother Teresa of calm driving.
Until last week. I had just posted last week’s blog and was running late for the morning meeting of the Boardwalk 9:59 Club. While there’s no firm starting time, those who get there after Bill, the unofficial “Chairman of the Boards,” are met with some good-natured derision.
I drove slowly to the end of my block and stopped at the four-way stop sign. I had just taken my foot off the brake when a car, coming from the left and driving at least 5 MPH above the 15 MPH speed limit, blew straight through the stop sign. My Philly anger immediately peaked and I turned right and followed the car to a cul-de-sac on the right.
I pulled up alongside the idling car, rolled my window down and began berating the driver for his recklessness. The driver pretended not to see me and was playing with his phone. After a minute or so I realized that he was not going to acknowledge me and I put my Jeep in reverse and began to slowly back out of the cul-de-sac.
And then something amazing happened. The driver pulled into a parking spot, got out and approached my car. He was just a kid.
“I’m so sorry sir. I have like, four kids to pick up for school and I’m running late. I know I was wrong and I’m really sorry.”
His candor totally diffused the situation. My anger left me and I told him it was okay; that he just needed to be careful.
On my way to the boardwalk, I thought of the altercation. I was impressed with the character of the young man and how he handled himself.
And then I told folks about what happened.
“You’re a dumbass! He could have pulled a gun!”
“You’re a dumbass! He could have dialed 911 and said some guy’s threatening him!”
“You’re a dumbass! He could have shot you!”
Well, this just in: I guess I might be a dumbass. But I think probably two people each learned something valuable in this brief altercation.
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I had just finished writing this blog story before leaving to join my buddies in the 9:59 Club. As I drove towards Bethany, at a big intersection a car came from the right, the driver hovering their right foot over the brake pedal and blew through the light, making a right turn on red without stopping. Right in front of me! Never slowed down! Never looked! I could have hit him!
My Philly anger immediately welled and I hit the gas, ready to follow the driver. Then I remembered what I had written, literally minutes before.
“Dumbass” I said to myself as I backed off the accelerator and resumed my drive.
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"Silence is very important. The silence between the notes is as important as the notes themselves."
- Mozart
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Didja Ever Have One of Those Days?
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