So for those who travel 101 East with any regularity, you have some familiarity with the exit for I95, also known as the “F*ck You Ramp”. For the uninitiated, this ramp usually backs up a good 1/2 mile, and it is not at all uncommon for someone to haul ass alongside the line of waiting cars, only to pull in at the last minute, badly cutting off some unsuspecting motorist and basically f*cking everyone over who is already in line. It happens almost every single day, and its apparently a ticketable offense, since Troopers are occasionally posted at the ramp and they actually pull the sh*theads over. But the Troopers only appear once a month or so.
So anyway, I am motoring along this morning and a white Acura TL flies past me at an amazing rate of speed; a rate that tells me there is no way this guy is going to make the f*ck you ramp; he instead must be buzzing along toward Hampton and foregoing the exit to 95. But not so! Before I know it, he uses up every ounce of brake pad he has to jam his car right in front of mine – effectively, he has executed the f*ck you ramp handbook to the letter. And in the pouring rain no less. A bold maneuver by anyone’s standards, but all in a day’s work for a TL driver. When you drive an Acura TL, you demand respect. You command respect. And no one will stand in the way of your personal success. You don’t have time for pleasantries or hand washing. It’s all business and that’s the way you like it. You laugh colo-rectal cancer square in the face and eat another pile of raw beef and wash it down with a glass full of thumbtacks because you’re a g*ddamn American man with a taste for modest Japanese luxury that is somewhere beyond Honda but not necessarily Lexus.
So my only recourse here is deliver a brief highbeam flash and then ride his bumper like I’m riding caboose on the a**hole train for the duration of the ramp. I am quite comfortable driving close to others so this is actually a relaxing situation. Without warning, the TL jams on its brakes, giving me pause and pissing off the line of 1,000 cars behind me. Intrigued, I tail this guy to within 20 feet of the tolls. Believe me, there’s nothing on the radio this morning and this is a welcome diversion.
At 20 feet before the tolls, the guy just stops. Sits there. Does nothing. It is my presumption that he believes he is in some way inconveniencing me, but since I really don’t care for my job, this welcome pause in the middle of the toll plaza is actually a serene experience. We sit for approximately 20 seconds as he holds up the entire ramp of traffic attempting to prove his point. Ultimately I feel like we’re all going to go nowhere unless I actually respond, so I turn my highbeams on, leave them on, and then give him a firm toot of the horn. This inspires him to move ahead and hand his fistful of cash to the toll attendant.
Now I can see him talking to the attendant. And I don’t know exactly what he’s saying, but I catch him glancing back at my car as he’s jabbering away, so the game is up – whatever it is that’s running out of that sh*t faucet of a mouth in front of me, it almost certainly has to be about me. And interestingly enough, as TL Man drives through, and I drive along through shortly thereafter, I see the toll attendant leaning out to talk to me, and I also notice that as I proceed through the toll without stopping (I have EZ Pass you idiot, why the hell would I stop to talk to you), the EZ-Pass judgement indicator remains red. A-ha!! What has happened here I am left to wonder!
No time to consider this subplot however; I am sure as hell now on a mission to find this guy and at least see his face so I can offer him an indelible memory of my middle finger. As we proceed along the onramp to 95, this guy just takes off. Now, I’ll tell you this – it was pouring like you wouldn’t believe, particularly at highway speeds, and I drove my AWD ass off trying to catch up to this guy and I saw him only for a moment as he rocketed off the ramp somewhere just south of Portsmouth. I don’t know what he was running from, but I sure know who. You little prick. I’ll see you again, but hopefully not because you’ll rear-end a garbage truck and not die but be very very hurt.