So there I was driving home from work on a beautiful sunny Friday afternoon in my Fiero - driving north on Riverside Drive, a four-lane road.
I come to a red light (Fishinger, for you Columbusites) and I'm seven or eight cars back from the light in the right lane and I see the first car is a box van/moving truck. The left lane is empty and I thought about going up there and taking "pole position," but decided against it because I wasn't in that big a hurry and the left lane ends about 1/8 mile past the intersection (important).
The light turns green and the line of traffic starts out slowly, nose to tail behind the box van, reaching about 35 mph. As we approach the merge, I notice this white Navigator coming up the left lane at 55-60 mph. I wonder to myself where he's going to go; the box van is past the merge and everyone is nose to tail behind it.
The Navigator draws up alongside me with his grille even with my door and nails his brakes, but the guy behind me glues himself to my rear end so Mr. SUV Yuppie Scumbag can't squeeze in.
I can't speed up because there's a car right in front of me. I can't slow down because there's a guy two feet off my back bumper. We reach the merge and the Navigator is now over the double yellow in the oncoming lanes. Southbound cars are swerving and honking to avoid him and STILL THE BASTARD WON'T SLOW DOWN. Instead, he starts to drift right, thinking he will use his 6500-pound piece of camel crap to intimidate the guy behind me into slowing down. Instead, that guy drifts right, but stays on the gas, and I don't have much choice but to drift right too.
With two wheels on the berm and trees flying past on the right, I run out of room and stop drifting right. The Navigator bumps me in the left-rear fender with his right-front fender. The Navigator panics, cuts left toward an oncoming car, then brakes and cuts right. The guy behind me nails the brakes and the Navigator slots in behind me.
To my amazement, I wasn't really scared and I wasn't really mad...just sort of dumbfounded. I read his front tag number in my rearview and jotted it down, and I noticed the S.O.B. was yammering away on his cell phone. He cut down a side street to run away and I drove into the heart of Upper Arlington, flagged down a police officer and told him the story.
Would you believe the phucker in the Navigator called the cops, reported it as a hit-skip and said I tried to pass him? Luckily, the officer smelled a rat and said the guy seemed really nervous and reluctant to give his name, while I was forthcoming and cooperative (of course I was...I didn't have to lie!). The Fiero is fine - just has a four-inch long white scuff above the left-rear fender which will buff out easily.
What's weird is, the cop didn't cite me, but he said they didn't cite the Navigator yuppie either (though he did use the word "yet").
What do you think will happen? Should I pursue this myself and try and get some money from this bastard, or let it go? Is there any chance of me getting cited (can't see how)? I'm busy at work right now and am going on vacation in two weeks...hate to say it but I'd probably let it go if I can -- I don't have time to dance around the courts with this jagoff.
If you've read this far, thank you!
but it really should be buffed, blended, and resealed)
