Rage

By Leo de Natale

Rage

By

 Leo de Natale

September, 2022

          “You’re not going to believe what happened driving here,” said Ernst Swensen, a fifty-something dentist, to his dental school classmate and close friend Ciro Della Stronzo. “It was worse than doing a root canal without Novacaine!”

Alas, as they drove that afternoon, Ernst’s feeble attempt at dental humor pertained to a nasty driving experience en route to Ciro’s home.   They were driving on a bittersweet mission that evoked sadness, not laughter.  Together the two friends were traveling to visit  a fellow classmate, Rob McGreavey, who’d sustained a severe, life-altering brain injury during the Covid pandemic.   There was a great deal of emotion for them.  In one fell swoop,  a slip-and-fall  ended their friend’s career as a dentist and robbed him of his lifelong avocation as an internationally acclaimed sculptor. 

He’d survived the induced coma and multiple surgeries that kept him alive but was left with cognitive deficits. He could speak with a slur but he could neither read nor write. He would never again create woodworking masterpieces. Rob relearned walking but his leg muscles had atrophied. At age 58, he would be dependent upon a walker for the remainder of his life. It was a sobering event for all their dental school classmates.  Rob was very popular and had served as class president during their four years.

As they drove that afternoon, Ernst’s feeble attempt at humor pertained to a nasty driving experience en route to Ciro’s home.

Ernst was driving his sleek black Audi convertible –  one of the indulgences that came with a successful career.   It was an early autumn Sunday. With the top down, he was cruising on the highway and simultaneously  enjoying the bright warm sun and wind in his rapidly vanishing hair-“Damn! There goes another four follicles down the highway!” he said but also pondering the purpose of his trip.  Ciro lived in Central Massachusetts and the drive usually took about 50 minutes.  He didn’t realize the first leg of his journey would be harrowing.

The Audi was traveling at  60 mph on Rte. 128’s middle lane (speed limit was 55 mph) and about five miles before  the highway exit.  Suddenly, Ernst glanced in his rearview mirror and was aghast.  There was a gleaming red 30 ton truck hauling a huge flatbed trailer.  The truck was  ten feet behind his car’s rear bumper.  The flatbed was carrying a  backhoe  weighing about 20 tons.

Perhaps Covid  19 changed people’s attitudes and one of the long term nationwide side effects was increased aggressive driving and road rage. This situation was nerve wracking.  In fact, it reminded Ernst of Steven Spielberg’s first major movie, Duel, where actor Dennis Weaver (the character Chester in television’s Gunsmoke)  is driving in sunny California en route to a business meeting.  

The movie’s plot centers on the never-seen truck driver/villain who first tailgates but then morphs into a monster chasing and terrorizing Weaver for most of the movie.  The driver was determined to kill Weaver’s character. Ernst was quite affected by the film and had a seminal influence on his driving habits.   He’d always be reminded of Duel whenever passing  ten wheelers.

  It was bad enough with automobiles tailgaiting but having a massive semi on his tail was unnerving.   He decided to reduce his speed to the 55 mph.  He thought the slowdown would sufficiently annoy the  truck driver and prompt a lane change.  No, the truck inched even closer.  This situation is getting scary, Ernst thought.

He often imagined  truck drivers were actually  silver-back mountain gorillas with their black, hairy prehensile feet and hands glued to the accelerator and air horn.  I’m getting pissed off, Mister!  Ernst said to himself. 

 “Well, King Kong, let’s see if this sends a message,” Ernst said aloud as he quickly tapped on the brake pedal, a sometimes dangerous maneuver if the driver behind isn’t paying attention.  It’s called “step braking” and it’s a not-so-subtle way of saying “Get off my tail!”.

Of course, the trucker ignored the message and actually drove closer to the Audi while blaring the eardrum piercing truck horn.  Ernst was now having a disaster fantasy where a driver ahead of him stops short and the Audi becomes an accordion.  He quickly checked his passenger’s side view mirror and fortunately the right lane was temporarily free. 

He turned on his directional signal, quickly swerved the car into the lane and watched as the massive truck passed him while accelerating up to 70 mph.  In lieu of a middle finger, the trucker  predictably blared the air horn again and began tailgating the next car in front of him.  Maybe I should have hurled a banana at him, Ernst thought.  You can’t teach stupid.  Especially to an ape.

Ernst was fuming over such harassment and had quickly glanced at the truck’s passenger door as the vehicle passed him.  The lettering stated “O’Brien and Sons Industrial Paving”.

It took about twenty minutes for Ernst’s adrenaline levels to subside.  At one point he slowed the car and pulled into the breakdown lane.  Taking pen and scratch paper, he wrote the paving company’s name.  He’d already decided to register a complaint the following day with Mr. O’Brien.

The remainder of that Sunday was a mixed bag.  He arrived at Ciro’s spacious McMansion – dentistry had its rewards. They drove together in the Audi to Rob’s home.  Ernst described his nasty experience on 128, the “rumble in the jungle” as he labeled it.  

“Yeah, it’s like the scene in that movie Spaceballs where Rick ‘Dark Helmet’ Moranis yells ‘You mean we’re surrounded by Assholes?’”, he said.

Thirty minutes later they arrived at Rob’s home.  Neither friend had seen him for about two years.  None of his family – his wife and three teenagers- were present.   Rob  was asleep in the living room when they arrived. 

He was resting in his well-worn leather Barcalounger with an annoying lap dog Rudy who barked incessantly during the visit.  Rob stayed on the recliner and never moved.  He recognized us and answered questions about his life post-trauma but he couldn’t initiate conversation on his own. The three friends reminisced and  shared a few belly laughs.  In the end, however, it was patently clear to Ernst and Ciro that Rob was a shell of himself.  Unfortunately there was no there there.  Rob had been a tall and handsome.  His body was that of a defeated man.  His scalp was lined with curved surgical incision scars. Perhaps it was a good thing he was oblivious to his physical and mental changes.  After thirty minutes they bade goodbye.  They drove in silence until stopping for a quick lunch.

Having metaphorically lost a friend, Ernst arrived home that day with great sadness and immediately hugged his wife.  He relayed the emotions he and  Ciro had experienced.  He also told her of the harrowing highway encounter.

“Everybody has a driving horror story,” she said. “You’ve got jerks who weave from lane to lane, idiots who are traveling in the passing lane and others tailgating at 85 miles an hour.  Happens all the time.”

“Well, I’m really ticked about today and I’m calling that company first thing tomorrow,” he said.

At 9am sharp, Ernst telephoned the company.

“O’Brien and Sons Paving, this is Michelle,” a woman’s voice answered with a thick Boston accent. “How can I help you?”

”Yes, my name is Ernst Swenson and I’d like to register a complaint regarding one of your truck drivers,” he said. “I was driving on Rte. 128 yesterday at about 11:30 and your employee was tailgating me while traveling 60 miles per hour.  His truck was about ten feet behind my car.  That’s dangerous and unacceptable.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, chewing on a wad of gum. “Can you wait a sec? I’ll put you on hold.”

About five minutes later, Michelle returned.

“Are you the guy in the convertible?” she asked.

“Yes I am,” Ernst replied quizzically and could hear her chomping on you could almost smell the  Juicy Fruit.

“Well we’ve got you on the dash cam and you were step-braking your “cah”,” she snorted. “That’s a pretty dangerous thing, ya know.”

It turns out the company, like so many other trucking businesses,  installed dashboard cameras in case there’s a vehicular accident.  Insurance companies require the feature.

“Wait a minute, madame,” Ernst replied.  “Your driver was putting himself and me in peril. I was telling him to back off.”

“Well, maybe you thought you were sending him a message, but you’re the one who’s being dangerous,” she said with attitude.

“I don’t like the way this conversation is going,” he replied.  “Please have your manager call me at his convenience.  Thank you and good bye.

Ernst provided his telephone number and disconnected.

About an hour later, Ernst was in his dental office and preparing for his next patient.  His receptionist buzzed him.   Telephone call, she announced.

“’Mistah’ Swenson?  This is Mike O’Brien returnin’ yaw call,” the voice said with an even thicker accent.  “I unda-stand you called about one of our drivahs yesterday” he asked.

“Yes I did,” Ernst responded.  “It was very scary having a multi-ton Mack Truck ten feet from  my bumper.”

“Well, I’ll tell you somethin’, sir” he said with truculence. “Yaw the one who’s the problem.  We caught you on the camera step braking.  You shouldn’t do that.  Yaw the one’s who gonna cause an accident. You had two clear lanes to the right and left.  You shoulda switched lanes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. O’Brien” Ernst decried. “I think you’ve got things a little backwards. You have an employee who was traveling above the posted speed limit and driving to endanger.  I don’t give a fig about my ‘step braking’.  The driver was wrong.  You have an attitude, sir, and it doesn’t reflect well on your company, especially with the truck signage advertising who you are.”

“Well, mistah, I’ll tell you something,” he said. “It’s people like you that causes accidents.  If you don’t like the way my guy is driving, well then just pull ovah!”

Ernst conjured a mental image of O’Brien.  He imagined a short, bald man with a florid face, double chin and accompanying beer belly.  Throw in several arm tattoos for good measure, he thought.

“Let’s just end this asinine conversation, Mr. O’Brien,” Ernst said calmly. “Clearly you’re not the most savvy businessman, someone who antagonizes a motorist and hires people who put the general public in danger.  Good luck with your paving business.  You’ll need it!  Oh and by the way, how many Neanderthals do you employ?”

Ernst’s heart was pounding after such a disagreeable encounter.  He continued to be unsettled over the weekend incident and decided to research tractor trailer accidents where the drivers or motorists were killed.  His Google search left him astounded.

One entry was entitled “News for tractor trailer accidents today” that tallied the numerous and often fatal highway accidents.  Many stories detailed how the truck drivers were killed.  Others chronicled trailer truck/motorist fatalities.  In many cases autopsies proved the long held belief that many truckers are driving under the influence of amphetamines.  Driving a transcontinental truck while meeting deadlines takes its toll on these poor bastards.

The road rage incident produced a profound  effect upon Ernst.  He began noticing how commonplace tailgaiting had become and began driving more defensively.  Somebody on his tail?  He’d quickly switch lanes and watch drivers repeat the O’Brien truck driver’s behavior by tailgating  the next vehicle ahead.  He noticed how truckers would habiitually tailgate each other.  That’s a real recipe for disaster.

Things don’t change.  It had  come to the point where driving  – even with a convertible top down on a warm summer’s day – wasn’t fun anymore.  In fact driving, especially on highways became a dreaded affair.  The jerks in the fast lane do not understand the physics of speed, acceleration and braking.  The collision danger is there 24/7.

August, 2024.

Ernst was at his breakfast table and reading the morning newspaper on his laptop.  Midway through eating his corn muffin he stopped and stared at the screen.

“Multi-car Highway Accident  Leaves Seven Dead” read the Associated Press headline.

“Worcester, MA: 

          “A multiple car crash Friday involving a tractor trailer truck and six automobiles has killed six and left a dozen survivors with life-threatening injuries.  The accident occurred on Rte. 128 during the morning rush hour commute.”

          “According to State Police, the truck was speeding and collided with a car in front of him.  The impact created a domino effect after the truck jackknifed, overturned and became engulfed with flames.  The driver and six motorists were burned to death.   The highway was closed for four hours.  The accident created numerous traffics delays.  State Police claimed the truck driver was probably killed instantly.  The truck was owned by O’Brien and Sons Industrial Paving.  The state Department of Transportation is investigating the accident.”