Jacob McSweeny: Two road rage incidents with vastly different outcomes

How you deal with road rage can produce vastly different outcomes. Photo / 123RF

Opinion

I cycle to and from work every day and my 10-minute commute involves a roundabout at the end of a bridge.

A few weeks ago I'm cycling home, but the side of the bridge I normally use is shut for maintenance and so I've got to use the other side. No problem, just a little awkward cycling against the bikes going the other way.

As I come off the bridge and enter the roundabout, I need to get across to the other side, which involves using a zebra crossing and then crossing the road.

I cross as a red car is coming through the roundabout but there's plenty of time and space to get over. The driver of said red car obviously disagrees.

I make it over but much to the chagrin of red car, who decides to send a message by driving into the bike lane and threatening to clip my bike with his car.

I explode in angry thoughts. A certain finger is raised in red car's direction and the driver reciprocates my gesture. I am still really mad and so I get the finger out again. He, again, reciprocates.

I can see up ahead the red car has pulled into a small shopping centre about 150m further down the road.

I drive past red car where the driver has rolled down the window and is waiting for me and we both shake our heads at each other. I want to do a lot worse, but fear gets the better of me and I play it safe. To be fair, I wouldn't back myself in a fight with a goat, let alone another human.

I went home and complained angrily to my wife about how aggressive this driver was and how this road rage scene played out.

"At least you're okay," my wife says.

Last week I was making the same journey but this time through the roundabout on the right side of the road, no crossing needed.

As I'm coming straight through the roundabout, a white Honda Odyssey gets too tight to the shoulder and almost nudges me, I brake just in time to avoid being hit.

Red mist descends. Instead of the finger, I go with the open palm, arm sweeping up and holding it for a moment in the air, like an Italian footballer complaining to a referee about a rough tackle.

I'm sure I'll get a finger back again. But, nothing happens. The Odyssey crawls up the road and pulls into that shopping centre.

This time I decide to confront the driver. It's a middle-aged man and he's out of his car and about to cross the road - presumably to get to the Fish n Chip shop - when I arrive on my bike.

"Excuse me sir," I say approaching.

He turns to look at me.

"You almost took me out back there, I must have been in your blind spot."

He is wearing sunglasses. And, he smiles.

"Oh sh*t sorry mate, I didn't see ya."

"I must have been in your blind spot," I repeat.

"Oh yeah sorry mate."

What more do I want out of this? I say "no worries, have a good one" and cycle off.

At home it's a different story. I tell my wife how I spoke to the driver and he seemed alright, and genuinely sorry. Maybe he'll even see the next cyclist.

"At least you're okay," my wife says.