Blood-boiling revenge a real let-down
25th August, 2007
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It was the single-finger salute that most irritated me. That and the breaking of that law, engraved in letters large in the mind of every urban motorist, which says: "The parking space about to be vacated belongs to he or she who waits beside it with their indicator flashing."
A believer in positive thinking - yes, there is enough gas in the bottle for one more barbecue; yes, there will be a table at the restaurant even though we haven't booked - I know that there will always be a carpark space for me, somewhere in a shopping mall. Okay, so the gas bottle might have run out just that once, but in the matter of parking spaces my luck usually holds. So it came to pass on this afternoon when, after a minute or two of cruising up and down the carpark, I saw tail-lights flash ten metres ahead and a car begin to reverse. Gotcha, I thought, and moved forward and put on my indicator, which began to pulse the international code for "Keep clear, this one's mine". The car reversed towards me and as it was about to move off, a small sedan appeared. Its driver saw me, saw the other vehicle reversing out and had stopped, presumably to allow it to more easily exit. As it was about to do so, and with my path completely blocked, the small sedan suddenly accelerated and, with a screech of tyres, stole my spot! This is the urban equivalent of stealing a man's horse or borrowing his woman. It is just not done, at least not without asking nicely first. Suitably enraged, I sounded the horn, pointed to the interloper and to myself, sign language for "What's the idea of stealing my spot?" The 20-something female driver replied by extending a finger in my direction, that universally recognised gesture which translates as "Stuff you". Carparks are minefields. I have on occasion looked to the left, to the right and then to the left again and reversed straight into the rear end of a car reversing out from the space directly behind me. The other driver had looked left and right as well but neither of us had looked behind. I've left paint samples on various other concrete posts, placed groceries on the roof and driven away, run over a pair of glasses (mine) and, on one occasion, lost a car for several days after a particularly social evening, but never have I had a carpark space stolen as I watched. Unfazed, the woman stepped out of her car, smirked and strode off, leaving me feeling like the Mall's Biggest Loser. One should turn the other cheek in situations like this. To do otherwise would be to descend to the same level as carpark space-stealing miscreants. And it could have been worse. The thieving driver could have been a knife-wielding psychopath. "Calm down," I told myself. "There is no point in giving yourself palpitations." So I took several deep breaths and drove off in search of another space. I found one after a couple of minutes and was congratulating myself on my adult approach to insignificant vicissitudes like carpark theft when the red mist returned. Some people, I muttered to myself, just think they can progress through life doing whatever they like and thinking they will go on getting away with it. The whole affair started to offend my sense of justice. These people had to be taught that there is a price to be paid. So I locked my car, walked back to where the small sedan was parked, dropped down on one knee and let down two of its tyres. When they were both completely deflated, I went off to do my shopping. Suddenly, I felt a whole lot better. My only regret was that I wasn't there to see the woman's face when she returned to her car. Why two tyres? How man people do you know who carry two spares? There are rules, you see, and one of them is not to flick the finger to vengeful, always-get-square people like me. |
