This week, well, Mon-Thur, I’ve been on vacation, well, besides hospitals and stuff. Yesterday I visited the hermitage. On the way, at the corner of 107 / 281, I followed this guy into a parking lot just before making the left-hand turn. Compare the boulders in the back of his Mack Truck with the oversize pickup trucks in front of the convenience store.
A few miles before (all double yellows), he had passed and cut me off and then slammed on his brakes right in front of me, making the boulders and his truck hop multiple times, almost ramming the stopped at a stop light vehicle in front of him just to shave literally only three seconds off his total trip. I was then behind him for all these miles, but I stayed like 250 yards back. I stopped to have a chat with him, not because of road rage (that would be stupid), but out of sadness with a quiet wish for the present driver to be safe. I’ve never talked with a bad driver before. Perhaps doing that would always be a stupid thing to do, but there are ways to go about things.
I started by quietly saying, “Sir, do you remember the […’s] boy?” As I thought, that got his interest, as he was taken that anyone would remember. I then recalled for this guy the story from quite a number of years ago about that kid, who had a single huge boulder in the back of his own Mack Truck. That boy had slammed on the brakes as well, but with the result that that boulder went right through the bed of the truck, right through the cab, crushing him to death.
I mentioned this sad case, using just the last name of the boy, and, to my surprise, the old geezer driving the truck pictured above immediately went into quiet reminiscence mode and, using the boy’s full name, he gave me all the details of the death, saying that the boy’s father had welded two gates together and was using that as protection of the cab from any boulders that might be placed in the back of the truck. The welded gates failed, of course. That father must have been totally devastated.
I wished this guy a “Be safe out there” as he did to me. All very cordial. But I’m thinking this encounter might calm his driving down a bit. There are ways to go about things. You never know when a quiet word might save someone’s life.