This is mostly cut-and-paste from another forum I posted to shortly after the incident, with a few additional details. I figured the crowd here might enjoy the story, and a few of you might actually believe it. Every word is true.
Anybody remember the episode of Seinfeld where they decide that Jerry is Even Steven? He throws a twenty out the window and then finds another one in his pocket. I figured out this weekend who I am: I'm The Guy That Weird Things Happen To. Sometimes it's of my own doing; most of the time it's not. The most recent episode was not.
I took a trip back home (Erie, PA) three weeks ago for my cousin's bachelor party. I stopped to eat at a local place at the entrance to Presque Isle State Park, and afterward decided to make the fourteen mile drive around the park.
I was a little past the halfway point, driving in a line of traffic with the cruise set at 25 mph (the park speed limit), and enjoying the scenery. A large Ford pickup a few cars ahead of me suddenly pulled off into a large dirt and gravel parking lot adjacent to the road. He made a large loop while gunning his engine and spinning his tires, kicking up a ton of dust and gravel in the process. Nothing unusual, I figured he was just some punk showing off. I was wrong.
He turned and made a straight line back to the road, which put him right in my path. I was about to hit the brakes to keep from hitting him when he slammed on his and stopped just in time. It happened so fast I didn't even think to flip him off and just looked at him as I went past.
He pulled back on the road behind me, and immediately pulled right up to my bumper. I was in a good, mellow mood, and didn't really feel like dealing with an a$$hole (and couldn't quite figure out why he was tailgaiting me) so I decided to ignore him for another two miles until an extra lane joined the road and he could pass me.
Then he rammed into my car. I was royally pissed. I guessed that he was mad that I didn't slam on the brakes and let him cut me off, and this was his way of getting back at me. I grabbed my cellphone and dialed 911; he hit hard enough that there was probably damage, and I didn't want him to get away. He had a huge dog on the passenger seat next to him, so I didn't think I could confront him myself (I was alone).
While I was on the phone with the dispatcher, he rammed me again, harder this time. I thought "Oh, Fsck!" and realized he wasn't going away. I was transferred to the local PD dispatch, and started calling out landmarks as I was passing them so the cops would know where I was.
He rammed my car again and again, probably ten to fifteen times in total. One was hard enough that my hand slipped off the steering wheel and I was thrown, HARD, against the seat. Another time he rammed into me and hit the gas, pushing my car faster as I stood on the brakes. I think the only reason I managed to not lose control was the slow speed; I had cars in front of me the whole time and never went over 30 mph.
I kept looking in the mirror so I'd know when to brace for the next impact, and I noticed his demeanor was really strange. Normally, when a person is road-raging he'll be animated: pounding on the steering wheel, gesturing, yelling, etc. This guy was calm and methodical, like he was driving to the store. I noticed that he had his left hand on the steering wheel, but was holding the first two fingers of his right hand straight out to the right. It seemed strange, but I was more concerned with the fact that his car was much bigger than mine and he seemed intent on ramming me into the car in front of me.
The police dispatcher yelled at me to get away from him in any way possible, but I couldn't. There was constant traffic coming the other way, and the berm wasn't wide enough to safely pass on the right. I figured I had a better chance of maintaining control of the car than if I wrecked and had to deal with him on the side of the road. It probably turned out to be a wise decision.
Finally, the opposing traffic cleared, and I moved into the other lane, gunned it, and passed the two cars in front of me. Once I put those two cars between us, he backed off. The dispatcher directed me to the ranger station a mile ahead, and I stopped there to wait for the rangers to catch him.
He blew past two rangers and they took off after him. A third ranger pulled his truck in front of him, threw it in park, and the guy crashed into him. He pulled the guy from his truck, roughed him up a bit, and arrested him.
I was sitting in the station giving my statement when the ranger who arrested him came up to me, said, "It could have been worse..." and showed me a loaded Smith & Wesson revolver he took from the guy. I realized that it wasn't his fingers pointing to the side I'd seen; it was the barrel of the gun. The lunatic had it in his hand the whole time! It makes me really glad I didn't chance crashing on the berm.
When the rangers took him into custody, he was completely derainged and couldn't even answer basic questions. They had him committed the same day, and he'll be spending at least the next several months in an institution. It turns out the guy is bipolar, and after some time off his meds, decided that he's on a mission from god to kill all of the child molesters. The ranger who arrested him is guessing that he saw me in his rearview mirror and pulled off the road to get a better look...and apparently I fit his child molester profile. Whether it was the non-descript white car, my appearance, or I was just in the wrong place or the wrong time, I'll never know. Without a doubt, though, it was the most bizarre experience of my life.
Anybody remember the episode of Seinfeld where they decide that Jerry is Even Steven? He throws a twenty out the window and then finds another one in his pocket. I figured out this weekend who I am: I'm The Guy That Weird Things Happen To. Sometimes it's of my own doing; most of the time it's not. The most recent episode was not.
I took a trip back home (Erie, PA) three weeks ago for my cousin's bachelor party. I stopped to eat at a local place at the entrance to Presque Isle State Park, and afterward decided to make the fourteen mile drive around the park.
I was a little past the halfway point, driving in a line of traffic with the cruise set at 25 mph (the park speed limit), and enjoying the scenery. A large Ford pickup a few cars ahead of me suddenly pulled off into a large dirt and gravel parking lot adjacent to the road. He made a large loop while gunning his engine and spinning his tires, kicking up a ton of dust and gravel in the process. Nothing unusual, I figured he was just some punk showing off. I was wrong.
He turned and made a straight line back to the road, which put him right in my path. I was about to hit the brakes to keep from hitting him when he slammed on his and stopped just in time. It happened so fast I didn't even think to flip him off and just looked at him as I went past.
He pulled back on the road behind me, and immediately pulled right up to my bumper. I was in a good, mellow mood, and didn't really feel like dealing with an a$$hole (and couldn't quite figure out why he was tailgaiting me) so I decided to ignore him for another two miles until an extra lane joined the road and he could pass me.
Then he rammed into my car. I was royally pissed. I guessed that he was mad that I didn't slam on the brakes and let him cut me off, and this was his way of getting back at me. I grabbed my cellphone and dialed 911; he hit hard enough that there was probably damage, and I didn't want him to get away. He had a huge dog on the passenger seat next to him, so I didn't think I could confront him myself (I was alone).
While I was on the phone with the dispatcher, he rammed me again, harder this time. I thought "Oh, Fsck!" and realized he wasn't going away. I was transferred to the local PD dispatch, and started calling out landmarks as I was passing them so the cops would know where I was.
He rammed my car again and again, probably ten to fifteen times in total. One was hard enough that my hand slipped off the steering wheel and I was thrown, HARD, against the seat. Another time he rammed into me and hit the gas, pushing my car faster as I stood on the brakes. I think the only reason I managed to not lose control was the slow speed; I had cars in front of me the whole time and never went over 30 mph.
I kept looking in the mirror so I'd know when to brace for the next impact, and I noticed his demeanor was really strange. Normally, when a person is road-raging he'll be animated: pounding on the steering wheel, gesturing, yelling, etc. This guy was calm and methodical, like he was driving to the store. I noticed that he had his left hand on the steering wheel, but was holding the first two fingers of his right hand straight out to the right. It seemed strange, but I was more concerned with the fact that his car was much bigger than mine and he seemed intent on ramming me into the car in front of me.
The police dispatcher yelled at me to get away from him in any way possible, but I couldn't. There was constant traffic coming the other way, and the berm wasn't wide enough to safely pass on the right. I figured I had a better chance of maintaining control of the car than if I wrecked and had to deal with him on the side of the road. It probably turned out to be a wise decision.
Finally, the opposing traffic cleared, and I moved into the other lane, gunned it, and passed the two cars in front of me. Once I put those two cars between us, he backed off. The dispatcher directed me to the ranger station a mile ahead, and I stopped there to wait for the rangers to catch him.
He blew past two rangers and they took off after him. A third ranger pulled his truck in front of him, threw it in park, and the guy crashed into him. He pulled the guy from his truck, roughed him up a bit, and arrested him.
I was sitting in the station giving my statement when the ranger who arrested him came up to me, said, "It could have been worse..." and showed me a loaded Smith & Wesson revolver he took from the guy. I realized that it wasn't his fingers pointing to the side I'd seen; it was the barrel of the gun. The lunatic had it in his hand the whole time! It makes me really glad I didn't chance crashing on the berm.
When the rangers took him into custody, he was completely derainged and couldn't even answer basic questions. They had him committed the same day, and he'll be spending at least the next several months in an institution. It turns out the guy is bipolar, and after some time off his meds, decided that he's on a mission from god to kill all of the child molesters. The ranger who arrested him is guessing that he saw me in his rearview mirror and pulled off the road to get a better look...and apparently I fit his child molester profile. Whether it was the non-descript white car, my appearance, or I was just in the wrong place or the wrong time, I'll never know. Without a doubt, though, it was the most bizarre experience of my life.
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