The road rage story reminds of another one that concludes in a more gratifying manner.
(Told to me by my mom): One of my many aunts—my mother’s only sibling—lives in Chicago. She’s had a very good job for a number of years.
One Chicago winter, she stops at the cleaners before going to work. While coming out of the cleaners, she notices that a snow plow is advancing up the street in her direction. Judging that the plow is far enough away, she gets in her car and begins to back out. But when she’s halfway out, she sees that the plow is trying to stop, but can’t quite make it. It ends up putting a considerable dent in her car.
So Aunt gets out of the car to inspect the situation. She looks at the damage, then looks at the driver of the plow, but says nothing.
But what does the driver do? He backs up a little and taps the car again! Then he sticks his head out of the window and calls aunt every dirty name that comes into his tiny little brain and threatens her. Bad move.
Aunt is a Chicago Police Detective. Plain clothes.
Needless to say, the story ends with this “gentleman” face down in the snow with a weapon pointed at his head; and, suddenly, very polite.
Let that be a lesson to all who think women are defenseless.