This morning, on my way to class, I had a little adventure.
I don't even know what to write- I'm all jittery. And I keep looking over my shoulder.
I usually don't have a hard time cutting between cars on my way to class- most people figure that my trading saftey for gas mileage and maneuverability makes it slightly more fair that I don't have to wait in traffic.
This morning, while I was cutting through traffic, trying to get over into the turn lane on surface streets (where the majority of motorcycle accidents happen), the guy on my right was a little closer than I liked, but there was still room for me between him and the car in front of him (My bike is less than six feet long, and while turning, takes up about half that).
I signalled and pulled into the small space, only to have the guy behind me speed up, blaring his horn, and swearing at me. I dropped my left elbow, moving back into my own lane, but this guy wasn't happy enough with that. He sped up even further, coming up along side me, about three feet behind the car in front of him, to yell at me. He also started drifting into my lane, pushing me closer toward oncoming traffic.
I hit my brakes, slowing enough to let him pass in front of me, have his space back, or deal with whatever his problem was. But he wasn't very happy about that either, so he kept moving over into my lane. I kicked the side of his car, partly because he was being a jerk, and partly to let him know that I was still there, and to please not run over me. But mostly the first one, because he was being a jerk. The guy had red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, and I figured he was either tweaking or having a really bad day, but I was willing to let it go at that.
He rolled down his window, shouting at me that I better "pull the fuck over to the side of the road, because you dented my truck and I am going to fuck you up." I shook my head No, because that didn't sound like a deal that benefitted both of us, but he kept shouting that I should pull over to "the motherfucking side of the road, motherfucker!"
He kept moving over, and matched my speed so that I was even with his front mirror. He told me again, very insistently, that I should pull over to the side of the road so he could "fuck me up." He pulled his hand out of the car, which had a knife in it, and I dipped my left arm to pull farther away from his car each time he tried to reach me with it. I thought to myself, 'To hell with this,' and I twisted the throttle to leave him behind me. He kept up with me, mashing his accelerator, and followed me toward the traffic that had passed us while we were slowed.
I'm in a motorcycle, and he's in a big SUV Suburban, so the odds are in my favor for getting away, but he's breaking all sorts of traffic laws to follow me. I split lanes, and he pulled into opposing traffic to get in front of cars at a stop light. He was trapped on the far side, so I dropped into the right lane, and he pulled into a gas station, cutting off traffic and then pulling out of it on the opposite side, cutting off oncoming traffic to follow me down the street. I'm still splitting traffic, and riding on the shoulder, and doing anything to keep ahead of this lunatic. I had to take whichever options were open to me, so I went straight through a green light, rather than turning left like I wanted to (and usually do when I'm on my way to school and not being chased by a maniac).
I had to pass a car turning right on the right hand side, and almost ended up under a bus, but braked enough to let the bus by, and then sped up around it, coming over the hill by my school at like 80 miles an hour. I drove right past my school, hoping to catch a break and find a green light at the top of the hill, which I didn't, meaning I had to make another right, onto the freeway.
I took off up the freeway like a bat out of hell, cutting lanes and speeding even though traffic wasn't that heavy- and I got off on the first exit, turning right and heading back along side streets toward school.
Now I'm all jumpy- I'm having a hard time concentrating, and I keep looking over my shoulder like there's a maniac with a knife who's going to drive by my school, see my bike, and start wandering around looking for me.
