So the story goes: It started out as a great day. My daughter just started 7th grade in her new school and she was happy. The previous years she had to wear a uniform and she hated it. This year she could wear whatever she wanted within reason. We purchased all her new clothes and school supplies, but she needed more sneakers and shoes. When I was growing up I received one pair of sneakers and one pair of shoes. Yeah, we grew up needing a few things, but we had lots of love and laughter. F**k that; I wanted sneakers and a sweatsuit. I mean, I deserved it, after all those ass whoopings my mother allocated to us on the regular. SMH. That chick would have been in jail if it were in these days. But!!!!, I’m supposedly a better man for it. Not really. I will beat an ass in a heartbeat and chalk it up to my younger days of good old fashioned child rearing. F**k that… I wanted some sneakers and a sweat suit. So back to my daughter and the BMW X6M from hell.
My baby girl comes home and says, “Daddy, baby needs some new shoes, and we should head out to the mall to get some along with the school supplies that my teachers say we need to have by Monday.” Well bless all you freaking teachers for giving me the weekend to get your damn supplies. I thought that the school was to supply the school supplies. Times have changed. I had nothing else to do with my money this weekend, so off to the mall we went. I packed my daughter in the car along with her grandmother, because this girl needs to go everywhere with her mother or grandma. My mother needed the ride out anyway, so I never mind taking her with us. We left off our street and things seemed to be flowing smoothly. A few turns added up to a mile away from home and we landed on the main highway; Route #9 North. Two blocks into Route #9 we came to a bit of a slow down. I guess they were doing construction up ahead and both lanes soon had to merge. I drive an import, an under $100,000USD import and around here you don’t get much respect for that unless you do the ghetto thing: Bling your car out with some rims, tint the windows, put a rear spoiler on, and/or put a low-body kit on it. I am not the type to do any of that foolishness. I go stock all the way. Aftermarket, for the most part, is for those seeking attention; you know, “those people.” I was next in line to merge and I heard someone yell out, “F**k that, Bro.” To my surprise it was a late model BMW X6M. White finish with black carbon fiber accents and black rims. Nice, but not on my Cars-I’d-Sleep-With-Jocelyn-Wildenstein-In-Order-To-Attain List. The car was more like “I’d buy that for my daughter for her high school graduation gift” type of car. The bitch that was driving it, and yeah he was and still is a bitch, had the nerve to cut me off and curse at me. Now for those of you who know me, that’s not a good idea; not even remotely. I wanted to catch him and show him who was his “Bro” but I let it go cause I was having a nice drive out with the family. This guy kept yelling and cursing at me even though I let him pass and said nothing to him. There was a policeman ahead directing traffic, right in front of his car and peered around him to see with whom he was arguing. It was just me and I wasn’t answering back or causing a scene, so the cop let it go. Road rage is a crazy thing.
After the traffic gave way, the BMW X6M took off like a bat out of hell, racing up the highway as if he were at some Formula One car race. It was ok with me buddy, I wasn’t giving you a second thought. I had my family and I was happy. The family car proceeded up the highway, all while talking and laughing, and just plain enjoying life. We had no clue what the next 5 minutes would bring. It was around 4:30PM; we had no business being on the road at that time. It was our rush hour time of the day. Traffic was bad and most of the time a driver would catch all of the red lights. Looking ahead I could see the White BMW. Wow, all that speeding and he went no where. I caught up to him through no extra effort of my own. I just did the speed limit and drove the way I was supposed to drive. After all, I wasn’t in a rush to get to the mall. I looked over at my new friend and saw his disgust at my passing him. At that very moment I knew he wanted a piece of me more than he wanted a piece of hair-pie. Sounds a bit over the top? It wasn’t . You soon will know why.
Vinny, yeah let’s call him, Vinny Bitchnuts, fell behind me by 4 or 5 cars. This did not make him happy, and I only know this from what happened next. Vinny, sped up in the shoulder lane to catch me. He passed me on my right. Me, the guy with the low cost import. Keep it moving my man. You don’t want it with me. Apparently he did want it with me. As he tried to pass me on the shoulder I mouthed to him, “You’re a Bitch!!” Oh wow, your friendly road rager did not appreciate me bringing to attention who he was. Truth hurts? Yes it does. Vinny proceeded to speed ahead of me and cut left in front of my car and slammed on his brakes. My car came to a screeching halt. His car had blocked both lanes of traffic going northbound on the highway. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but, no one blew their horns. No one screamed out from their cars. But what I did notice was Vinny’s door opening up and his large frame of a body moving with a swiftness toward my car. My daughter was in the front passenger seat so I instinctively went into protection mode. Wait, let me tell the truth. I didn’t at first think about my daughter’s safety. Fucking shoot me then or call me a bad father. I thought, “Holy sh*t! This guy is going to fight me in front of my daughter and I can not let her see him take me down.” I travel with a knife; not for protection, but I just like to know I have it in case I need it. The kind of knife with the staggered serrated edges near the heel or backend of the blade. The serrated edges are for cutting or for when a piece of flesh is penetrated whatever is behind the flesh can and will be pulled out in front of the flesh when the knife is retracted. I truly am not a violent man.
It all happened so fast. I reached in my pocket, unlocked the knife, unlocked the door, and jumped out of the car, all before Vinny could get to my door. With my heart racing, because I knew in my head that this fucker was going down and there wasn’t a jury that wouldn’t back me up in delivering a not guilty verdict, I met Vinny face to face at my driverside door.
“Who you calling a bitch?” bellowed Vinny.
“You.” I replied calmly. Then I proceeded to beg him to hit me, in front of all the witnesses that pulled out all of their camera phones to record a very real and very live and intense road rage altercation for the amusement of themselves, the YouTube nation, the police detectives, and the 11 o’clock news, so I could do my damage to his femoral artery in his thigh. I’m sure the people in back of me saw the knife out ready for action, and no one warned Vinny of his impending defeat. I also noticed that Vinny had a friend who had also gotten out of his car and was slowly approaching my front left side from about 15 feet away. Wow! Two guys, that with pure cooperation, could have taken me down.
Vinny asked me again, “Who are you calling a bitch?”
“You.” I replied with a small smirk on my face. “If you weren’t a bitch, you would have hit me by now. So let me ask you, why the f**k did you get out of your car? Do something!!!,” I bellowed.
With all it took for him to hold back the tears and his lip quivering in fear, at least that’s what I believe, he answered, “You are so lucky. I just got out of jail 3 months ago and I don’t want to go back!” His friend laughed.
“I knew you were a bitch,” I said, pushing my luck. I just had a feeling he really didn’t expect some bald, stocky, mean looking (trust me I’m so much a teddy bear, yeah right), guy to come up out of my car so fast and with such confidence, staring him down face to face. I saw the pores on his nose and smelled the cheese steak he had 15 minutes before. There was no fear with my super hero side kick daughter by my side.
He turned and walked back to his car and drove away with not another word said. Buddy you were supposedly in a hot SUV: the BMW X6M. You ran away: bitch move. Maybe he did just get out of jail 3 months prior. Maybe I have angels watching over me. Maybe he took pity on me. I’m just giving up the reasons that I’m still alive and unharmed. Maybe I’m not that scary guy everyone believes I am and I caught a lucky break. Maybe he didn’t want to beat me silly in front of my family. Maybe it’s all of the previous reasons. Maybe. I am positive about a few things. I wasn’t a bitch this day, and my daughter looks at me as her protector even more than before. I’m positive Vinny is a bitch and his friend proved it with his chuckle at the notion that Vinny just got out of jail. But most of all, I’m positive I will never put my family in a position like that again. It was foolish of me not to run Vinny over with my car when he got out of his. He could have had a gun or he could have gave me a good old fashioned beating across the highway with my daughter and mother watching. It went well this day, but all days don’t go so well. Make no mistake, I can handle myself, but I’m getting older. I still got it, but I don’t need to prove it.
I know one more thing. There is one more person who did not bitch-up that day; my daughter. Not once did she cry or beg me to stay in the car. She was a let the chips fall as they may type of girl. I’m building a monster. I’m proud of her. Fellas watch out. By the way, we did get to the mall. Bought everything she needed, but never got those sneakers. Good times….. I would have felt better if Sarah Sims were there.