…that one, right there? The one going down the middle of the road? Yea, that one. The one that’s actually kinda two lines. They’re yellow so that even a trepaned can notice that they are there!
Well, maybe someone might have mentioned it, but you’re really not supposed to bring your car across those lines. I mean, you physically can do it. But your kinda not supposed to. Perhaps that driving course you slept through mentioned it, or maybe the person who took your learners permit tets in your place knew about it. Just a thought.
Now I can understand that under rare circumstances, you might have a need to cross those double yellow line. These circumstances usually involve a vehicle blocking your path. In this case, it was a rather large tractor trailer.
Of course, you are really really encouraged to check the oncoming traffic before you do this. This, Car A, was your crime. You failed to check for the possibility for oncoming traffic. One might wonder how deep the syphillis goes into your spinal column to not see that oncoming car. You were lucky that there was not a head on collision. I am greatful that both cars involved in the first stages of this incident had excellent brakes.
But Car A, you are not the true villain in this piece. Oh no. That is reserved for Car B. Not the car you almost hit, but rather the car behind you, Car A.
Now, Car B, do you see that other line? The white one? Well, after crossing the double-yellow line, you really, really are not supposed to that line*! Why? because that is where the bike lane begins. The double yellow line is suppose to be a strong warning that you’re doing something wrong. Crossing the white line should have set something off in your nervous system somewhere that said “This is not a thing I should be doing.” This stuff should be hardwired into most people who function in society, but doing that may not be your strong point.
You see, Car A was an SUV, and was understandably hard to see around. But when Car A ceased moving to your satisfaction, that was hardly a reason to try to barrel around it into the oncoming bike lane. I can say with some assurance that your brakes do not seem to work as well as Car A’s. But they do function, as did my bike brakes. Nontheless, it is a but unnerving to know that had I not slowed down passing Car A and its would-be jousting partner, that I would be splayed on your hood. This does not fill me with happy thoughts.
Now here’s a hint. When you are so obviously and greviously in the wrong, do not try to wave at me to get out of the way. This is my lane, and I have little reason to abandon it for oncoming traffic, especially when there is little chance of that boat of your clearing Car A and the parked cars to my right. So understand that yes, I do have nine more of those fingers and they too have little sympathy for the indignation (i.e. temper tantrum, referred to with the modern euphemism as “road rage”) you displayed. I’m sure your steering wheel was very impressed by the blow you gave it while waving at me.
Now, undeerstand that gunning your engine does not impress me. Jerking you car forward and stopping it does not intimidate me. You car is too boaty to get any real accelleration in the 8 feet between the fronts of our vehicles, and you just used 2 of those feet trying to intimidate me.
Oh, and yelling at me to “Get the f*** out of the way” is not going to help you any. Since your vehicle is very much absent of a woman giving birth or guy bleeding to death, I have very little moral reason to do so. At this point I confess that I was there to punish your impatient soul.
Now, somehow Car A managed to back up, with the guidance of some burly folks who assume were somehow connected with the truck that was in the lane in the first place. Now, why you thought that Car A moving backwards gave you the holy right to dive in front of Car A in hopes that his aforementioned jousting partner would magically vanish. I really don’t know what you were thinking.
I especially don’t know what you were thinking when you did this and almost ran over the burly truck driving guy, who was trying to unsnarl the mess and whose furniture-lifting friends were only a short distance away. Why you chose this moment to blast your horn and curse I may never know. All I can say is that such a move was not well advised. You’re slight frame, ‘tough-guy’ rolled sleeves, and attempt a mustache might intimidate a 7th grader. But not much else, and my money would honestly be on the 7th grader. I’d be lying if I said I undertsood what the truck driver said to you, becuase at that point I decided I had enough confrontationfor one evening and pedalled off. It is my hope however, that you have learned your lesson, but I doubt that you did.