Anyone who’s ever driven in California knows how crazy the drivers are here and it’s getting worse as each new day passes. Yesterday alone, I avoided at least three accidents in one parking lot. First, the usual: a man pulls out too far attempting to beat me while making a right turn. Later, as I was walking from Bristol Farms grocery store to my car, some woman flying low in a Mercedes nearly hit me while going nearly fifty miles per hour. Minutes later, a man in a van attempted to make a left turn in front of me. He had a stop sign, I didn’t. (He, at least, apologized.) As a hardcore Californian, I’ve learned to live with this and many other facts of Golden State life and to bide my time until I leave this God-forsaken state.
However, I don’t have to put up with this crap on a military base.
Admittedly, I sometimes have a lead foot myself, but on base, I know better. Apparently, some don’t.
Driving on base this morning, on my way to the gym, I noticed that a woman was tailgating me and attempting to pass me on the driver’s side. Keep in mind that the entire small base is a no-passing zone, that the speed limit is a grand total of fifteen miles per hour everywhere and that the road on which we were driving was right in front of the base headquarters, where much foot traffic crosses. (Saturday, the pedestrian traffic is, of course, lighter, but not non-existent.)
I watched this bag blow through two stop signs behind me. When I made a left turn onto the short access road to the gym, she was still in my back pocket. There was one more left turn to go--into the gym parking lot--and just as I was about to make it, I happened to glance in my left side mirror. She was attempting to pass me again and nearly t-boned me! I slammed on my brakes and on my horn and muttered much harsh language. She allowed me to make the turn and I parked. As I watched, she sped into the parking lot, turned the wrong way on one of the one-way rows and pulled into a space.
After all that, I still made it into the gym before she did.
Being highly ticked-off, I had one of my better cardio work-outs. There’s nothing like a little anger-fueled adrenalin to get that Stair Master moving.
Afterward, I came out and her car was still there. So I took down the pertinent information (she had no military sticker) and reported the incident to the gate security forces guy (an Army Specialist). He called some back-up and they took down my name, phone number, my report of the incident, her description and headed over to the gym to have a little chat with the bi-otch.
She was fifty-ish, real athletic looking and had the air of a high-ranking officer’s wife. If my estimate of her status is correct, I wonder what will come of it. I hope they give her my name.
Heck, what can they do? Make me retire in two weeks?
